


Ten of Hearts

by Aviss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon - Book, Divorce, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fix-It, Only You AU, POV Outsider, Post LSH, TW: hanging, Tumblr Prompt, Unplanned Pregnancy, ever after au, movie fusions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-01-27 07:10:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 28,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21388153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: A compilation of the Tumblr prompts as I do them, they will all be Jaime/Brienne though the ratings, warning and prompt vary.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 529
Kudos: 560





	1. Strength - Courage - Ever After AU

**Author's Note:**

> Just because I suck at keeping things in something resembling an order if left to my own devices, I'll be adding the filled prompts her as I go. I'll update the warnings in any chapter that needs them.

There was something daunting in standing just outside the Great Hall in Evenfall where the ball was taking place. Inside everyone was laughing and making merry, the champagne flowing freely, lavish food covering the long table in the middle and the musicians playing so the people could dance. 

Jaime was standing outside, dressed not in Lannister colours but in neutral dark grey and silver, almost like a northerner. He was wearing a mask for the ball which covered the top half of his face and had tied his hair back. 

Unless someone knew he was coming, nobody was going to recognize him. 

"_Courage_," he told himself, taking a deep breath before he stepped inside. 

Immediately the din of music and conversations surrounded him, a cacophony of noise in which he could make out no individual voices or words. 

He went further inside, his eyes scanning the crowd. It shouldn't be so difficult to find one woman who was a head taller than everyone else, and yet Jaime could not see her. 

He hoped he wasn't too late and she hadn't chosen her future husband yet. 

It had taken Jaime all his skill and half of his brother's saved gold to get to Tarth today after his father and sister had forbidden him to assist to the ball. According to Tywin and Cersei, Brienne was too ugly and too mannish to become Lady Lannister. They had gone as far as to lock Jaime in the castle's dungeons, unused as they had been for decades, to prevent him from going when he had insisted. 

Had it not been for Tyrion, who had opened the door after stealing the key from a drunk Cersei, Jaime would still be there stewing in his anger and imagining many underserving men vying for Brienne's hand.

He was the only one who wanted Brienne, not her island, but Jaime's family was against it.

They didn't care that Brienne was of noble birth, the sole heir of Tarth and future Evenstar. They didn't care that the Lannister mines had dried out a long time ago and their extravagant lifestyle, especially Cersei's and her taste for jewels and gowns, had left their coffers almost empty. They had little more now than a once fearsome name and a half dilapidated castle, an army they couldn't pay and more pride than the beggars they were becoming could afford. 

They especially didn't care that Jaime loved Brienne.

They had met during one of Tywin's visits to the Stormlands trying to find a husband for Cersei. She might have been the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms but she was demanding and cruel, and liked a carafe of Dornish red more than she liked most people. Tywin was having less success marrying Cersei off to rich lords than he had imagined and was taking it out on Jaime.

Brienne had been there with her father, the Evenstar, and Jaime had bumped into her by chance while taking a walk outside the grounds of the Keep. 

There was a group of minor Stormlandsw lordings jeering and shouting, and though Jaime had tried to avoid them as much he could since his arrival, something in their tone reminded him of the ones who had tormented Tyrion growing up. He had approached them and seen two men fighting, a huge blonde one beating a red-headed one into the dust. The blonde's technique was exquisite, and it was clear to Jaime the other man had no chance against him. His hand itched to grab his own sword and challenge the winner, who he didn't doubt would be the blonde, to a fight. 

He heard what they were saying then, just as the blonde made the red-head yield. 

"Damn ugly freak," one of the spectators was saying. "No wonder her father can't get anyone to marry the cow."

Jaime had done a double-take then. The blonde was a woman, a very big one. He had seen the Evenstar around the castle, so it wasn't hard to place who she was.

"Imagine sleeping with that," another one said, "Not even Tarth is worth that much!"

They had laughed and Jaime had clasped his hands on their shoulders, hard enough that they had turned with a wince. "That's a Lady you're talking about," he had said. "You will show some respect."

"Or what?" 

_What_ had been a fight. One which Jaime would have won easily had not more of their friends arrived at that moment. They had still won, once Lady Brienne of Tarth had joined in the fray. The two of them together had left the five men groaning on the ground, one of them complaining Jaime bit him, which was absolutely true and he'd do it again. It had been worth the lecture from Tywin during the night about discipline and how he was an embarrassment to the family name, just for the chance to look at her and see her eyes sparkling. 

"I could have defended myself, Ser Jaime," she had said when they had been standing, victorious, over the lordlings.

"I don't doubt it, Lady Brienne," he had said with a roguish smile, his split lip stinging. "But this way was more fun."

She had blushed and averted her eyes, but Jaime had seen her lips ticking up in a smile. Jaime had dreamt about her eyes that night and was in the yard the next morning to fight with her. 

By the time he had disarmed Brienne, Jaime was half in love with her. Who cared that she was taller than him and just as broad, that her nose had been broken and she had more freckles on her face than there were stars in the sky? Jaime didn't care that her teeth were crooked or that her blushes were unsightly. He quite liked those things about her.

They met every day in the yard, and every day after their spar Jaime would ask her one question. 

"Tell me about Tarth," he asked the first day, and Brienne told him of the green mountains and deep caves under the hills. Told him about Evenfall, which sat on top of white cliffs and smelled like the sea all year round. 

"Tell me about your master at arms," he asked the second day, and Brienne told him about a Ser Wynmer who had refused to teach a girl, even when she was the daughter of his Lord, because swords were not for silly girls, and a Ser Goodwin who had replaced him and had taught her everything she knew.

"Tell me about your father," he asked the third day, and Brienne told him about Lord Selwyn and how grief-stricken he had been at the death of his heir, Galladon. How he had put himself back together and doted on her, how he had tried to arrange some betrothals for her and the misery they had brought.

"Tell me about your dreams," he had asked the fourth day, hoping already that her dreams would include him; his dreams already included her. 

On the fifth day, Jaime had waited and waited in the yard, but she had never come. 

"They are gone," Cersei had told him when he saw Jaime searching for either Brienne or Selwyn. "We are not so destitute to sell you to that ugly cow, I told that to Lord Selwyn when he approached father to inquire about your friendship. We might be down on our luck, but we have pride, and I will find a worthy husband."

She hadn't, and once they were back in Casterly Rock they had received news of the ball organized by the Evenstar to find a husband for his daughter. 

Now he was here against all odds, and couldn't see her.

"We were waiting for you, Ser Jaime," Lord Selwyn said, appearing by his side. Jaime startled and turned to look at him. He was wearing a mask as well, but his eyes, so similar to Brienne's, would have revealed his identity even if he wasn't taller than everyone else. "Your eyes give you away the same as me. And your brother's raven. She's outside in the garden."

He headed straight outside, and from the garden door saw where Brienne was, sitting on one of the stone benches, the moonlight dying her skin almost silver and turning her eyes, behind a black mask, bright jewels. 

He stared for several heartbeats, letting all the noise surrounding him disappear. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, this was where he belonged. 

He would go out there and kneel in front of Brienne, offer himself to her, as a husband if she wanted him, or as a sworn sword if she didn't, but he had decided on the way here that he wasn't going to go back.

"_Courage_," he repeated to himself again and stepped outside.


	2. The Emperor - Authority, Inflexibility (Canon universe)

Before he turned eight Jaime had swapped clothes with his sister almost every day for a couple of hours. Cersei had wanted to do more, but Jaime had not wanted to miss too much of his sword training, fearful that it would keep him from becoming a knight.

He had loved especially doing it during the afternoon when he had lessons with the Septon and Cersei sat with their mother leaning embroidery; he didn't have much use for it, but enjoyed spending that time with his mother, especially as the curve of her belly grew and she sang softly to the babe while embroidering tiny clothes for it.

He had always believed they got away with it, that nobody knew about the time he spent wearing a dress because his father had seen him like this several times and had never mentioned. 

"He's kicking, Jaime," his mother said one afternoon, beaming at him, her hand on her swollen belly. "Come, come feel your brother."

He had been so startled he had left his needle and the tiny doublet her was working on fall to the floor. 

"Come," his mother repeated. "Don't you want to feel it?"

He had, and had rushed to press his hand against his mother's huge belly. He felt the movement there, looking at her with wonder. That was his baby brother. _And he was strong_. 

"How did you know, mom?" he asked once the babe had gone back to sleep. 

"Because you are my children and I know you," she said, but Tywin was their father and he didn't. He gave orders and expected to be obeyed all the time, but he had looked at Jaime in the eye several times and called him Cersei. "You have the kindest eyes, I can always tell when it's you thanks to them."

"Are you going to tell father?"

"No, it will be our secret. Now, finish that and it will be your brother's first doublet, done by you."

It hadn't been, they had been found out by a servant exchanging clothes after their mother's death. Tywin had been furious. 

"You will not bring shame to the family," he had said to them once they were dressed again in their clothes. "Dressing like a woman and adorning clothes. You will bring here everything you made."

Jaime had, he had learned by then that no tears nor pleas would make Tywin change his mind. He had brought all the painstakingly embroidered things he had done and watched as his father threw them into the fire.

"You will not bring shame to this family," Tywin had repeated. 

That was what he remembered when the midwife put a squirming bundle in his hand, and he looked down at his son, pink and mewling and so very perfect in his arms. He looked at Brienne, who had their daughter in her arms and was looking at her with the same awestruck face s Jaime. 

"You will be whatever you want to be," he vowed to his children. "And we will always be proud of you."

He kissed his son's forehead and went to sit by the side of the bed. 

He wondered how difficult it would be to learn to embroider again with his left hand.

...


	3. The Hangman - Punishment - Post LSH Canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: violence  
TW: Hanging

In her dreams, they hang him next to Pod and Hyle. 

They make Brienne watch as Jaime struggles for breath, his face slowly turning purple, his feet kicking uselessly. His eyes never waver from her face, though, accusing her silently. _Traitor. False friend. Oathbreaker._ They never close, those terrible eyes, even when he stops moving, the breath in his lungs spent, his life as gone as that of everyone who had ever trusted her.

This is her punishment for believing herself a knight and daring to believe she could protect anyone, she has to stay and watch as the life leaves them. 

She always breaks down then, sobbing, and the dream loosens the grip it has on her, allowing her the respite of wakefulness. 

Brienne wakes up as ungracefully as she does everything else, bolting out of her bedroll and taking huge gulps of air, her lungs screaming as if she had been the one being slowly strangled.

She sees his eyes then, staring at her from the other side of the campfire, where he's doing his watch.

They are the same eyes of her dream, the same vivid green that haunts her whether awake or asleep, though there is no accusation in them now, only concern. 

"Another nightmare?" he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

On the ground of the cave, their companions sleep unaware. Sansa and Pod are curled as close to each other as decorum allows to ward off the cold, Hyle almost completely covered by his furs on their other side. Around them the night is silent and still, the snow has stopped falling and has settled even deeper on the ground. Their way North is becoming more and more difficult since they left the Vale.

Brienne nods, not trusting her voice to speak. 

"You need to sleep, wench, or you're going to be useless to us when we reach Winterfell."

"_I can't,_" she rasps, her voice croaky. She hasn't been speaking much either since they left the Riverlands. 

"Come here," Jaime says, and she shakes her head. He looks frustrated for a moment, then just stands up from his position and goes to her. "You have to sleep," he repeats more firmly. 

"I can't, I dream of her hanging you. Hanging all of you. I can't see you dying again." She has barely slept more than a couple of hours each night since Pennytree, knows that Jaime is right. She _is_ exhausted, and she's going to be useless to them if she carries on like this, but she can't close her eyes without seeing them hang.

Lady Stoneheart had not tried to hang Jaime, though, she had tried to stab him. She had ordered Brienne to kill him there, in front of her, and when Brienne had refused she had tried to do it herself. Jaime had killed her, again and for good this time, while Brienne held off the Brotherhood members who tried to stop them.

They had all, somehow, made it out of that cave with their lives. She had believed Jaime would have her head then, for lying to him, for bringing him to that place under false pretences. 

She had resigned herself to her execution at his hands.

He had only said, "You haven't found Sansa yet." No judgement in it. And when she had shaken her head he had nodded, as if that was what he expected. "Then we keep searching, wench. She's out there, somewhere. Not the Riverlands, we'll try the Vale."

They had found her there, and yet Jaime had not left them to go back to his family. He had pointed them North next, to Winterfell. 

"Stubborn wench," Jaime says now. Brienne stiffens when she feels him slipping into the bedroll with her, his cold body raising goosebumps against her sleep warmed one even through all the layers of clothing. 

"Jaime," she squeaks, and he shushes her. She lowers her voice even more. "What are you doing?"

"You need to sleep, so do I for that matter. It hasn't stopped snowing, there is nobody out there, no need to keep watch." His voice's right next to her ear, his breath hot on her neck and Brienne flushes a deep scarlet, her entire body rigid with shock. They are touching _everywhere_. Jaime passes his right arm over her waist, pressing her even closer to him, Brienne breath sticks to her throat. "We're alive and she's dead. _Sleep_."

"How?" She asks because it's impossible that she can sleep like this, feeling his body so close to hers.

"You can feel me breathing like this, hear my heartbeat. I'm alive, I'm here. You didn't kill me. You need to stop punishing yourself."

She closes her eyes against the sting of tears. She wants to believe him but doesn't think it will work. She doesn't say anything, greedily burrowing closer to him and enjoying their closeness more than she should, more than she can let Jaime know. If he knew what she feels, he would--

She never finishes the thought, falling asleep between one beat and the next. 

In this dream, they all live.

...


	4. Wheel of Fortune - Only You AU

It was all Galladon's fault, Brienne thought as she rushed through the streets of Dorne chasing after a shadow. 

She shouldn't be here, should be back in Tarth getting ready for her upcoming nuptials to Hyle Hunt, the most boring man in the entire universe. Instead, she had boarded the first plane to Dorne the moment she had heard that name through the airport sound system while she was heading to customs after landing.

"This a Last Call for passenger Renly Baratheon, the flight DAL456 to Sunspear is about to depart, please make your way to gate 28." 

She had tried to run there herself and see him, but gate 28 was on the other side of passport control. 

A normal person would have just ignored it and carried on with her life, but in this Brienne wasn't normal. 

Renly Baratheon was her fated husband, it had been foretold by a fortune teller when she was twelve and had claimed she hated men after Ron Connington had humiliated her in school. Galladon had taken her to the fair, and there the Red Priestess had looked into the fire and told her the name of her soulmate, the one man who would love her in spite of her looks. Had told Brienne she would know him as Renly Baratheon, and he would be as golden as the sun.

She had almost stopped believing in it once she grew up, soulmates were not really a thing in this world, fate didn't exist. She was willing to settle for Hyle, who didn't inspire passion but was steady and had proposed. Not the usual basis for a marriage, but apparently what she could get.

Except she wasn't as ready to settle as she had believed, Brienne had come out in arrivals in Tarth airport and ran to departures, and three hours later was boarding a plane to Sunspear. 

And now she was running after Renly because she had heard the name in the square where she was sitting deciding what to do next, she had not thought about how creepy she was being, running after a man she had never met just because a Red Priestess had given his name when she was a child.

Though not as creepy as the man who was running after her with her shoe, which had become a victim of the crazy chase minutes before.

She looked right and left, suddenly realizing she had lost Renly and she didn't know what to do of where the hell she was. She had foolishly assumed the universe would point her in the right direction once she was here and arrange her meeting with her soulmate.

Dejected, she sat on the first bench she saw.

"Wow, those long legs of yours really give you an unfair advantage," the man who had been chasing her skid to a stop in front of her, brandishing her shoe. "Even lopsided."

She looked up at him then, scowling. It fell from her face when she saw him, the man was prettier than any man had a right to be, with bright green eyes and a roguish smile, short blond hair and a silvering stubble on his sculpted jaw. He was golden as the sun and miles out of Brienne's league.

She blinked at him, stunned.

"Sorry, do you speak the common tongue? Are you Westerosi?"

She shook herself out and nodded. "Yes, sorry."

He smiled at her. "You were in a hurry," he said, and Brienne suddenly remembered she had lost Renly. "Were you chasing a thief?"

"Oh no, I've lost him," she looked at his handsome stranger who probably had women throwing themselves at him and couldn't understand the pain of the unloved, those who had just missed their one chance to meet their destined person. "I've lost my soulmate, I've lost Renly."

The man startled visibly, his beautiful eyes widening impossibly.

"_I am Renly._"

"You can't be," she said, feeling her despair turn into anger at his careless joke. 

"I am Renly Baratheon."

What?

…

Jaime stared after the tall blonde who had just lost a shoe in front of him. She, it was a she wasn't it? The shoe was from the women's collection. She ran faster than anyone Jaime had seen, not difficult considering she had legs for days. 

He bent and picked up the shoe. The leather clasp had snapped, that was how she had lost it. She must have been in a hurry to leave it like that.

He weighed his options; he could go back to the restaurant where the yearly Lannister-Baratheon carnage was taking place. He didn't know if it had been Cersei's sour face or Robert's drunken groping of the waitress what had finally made Renly flee while Jaime was outside having a smoke, but he had been considering doing the same since the moment he had landed in Sunspear. 

They still had a whole weekend of this bullshit and Tyrion had not deigned to come.

It was that what finally decided him, Jaime ground his cigarette and took at a run after the blonde.

She was wheezing several streets from where they had started, finally standing still. Jaime approached her, and when she looked up at him he felt as if he had been punched in the chest. Those eyes.

He had never seen eyes like that, not that blue or that beautiful. She was odd-looking, with millions of freckles and pale blonde hair and a too broad face, but those were the most unbelievable eyes he had ever seen.

He hoped she was single.

He did the same thing he'd always done in these cases, he babbled and hoped for the best. At least they spoke the same language.

"I've lost him," she said, and looked really despondent. "I've lost my soulmate." Jaime felt his heart fall. Of course a woman like this was taken. "I've lost Renly."

He blinked. What? He couldn't have heard that right. Was she running after Renly? Did she believe he was--but it must be wrong. Even then Renly was probably getting to his hotel, where Jaime knew Loras was waiting for him, and fucking his boyfriend into the mattress.

Renly couldn't be this woman's soulmate, not unless she was a lot less feminine than she already looked.

"I am Renly," his mouth said without input from his brain. 

The woman narrowed her impressive eyes at him, suddenly tense and wary. "You can't be."

Jaime had one chance to tell the truth, but he knew that the moment he admitted it she would be out of his life forever. How difficult could it be to keep her away from the real Renly and the rest of their fucked-up family for one weekend? 

"I am Renly Baratheon," Jaime said. 

He could make her fall for him, and then one little lie would be forgiven. It was destined, after all. Right?

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now a full fic, which can be found here:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21463285


	5. The Empress - Fertility, Dependence on Others - Post Canon (Book)

There were days when Brienne regretted every single decision of her life that had led her to this point. 

She cursed the moment she had picked up a sword for the first time, the moment she had sworn herself to the service of Renly first and then Catelyn Stark. She resented that she had ever clapped eyes on the Kingslayer and allowed him to burrow under her defences, becoming Ser Jaime first, and then just Jaime. She should have never let him give her a sword or a quest. She should have not let him come with her to seek Sansa, and especially should not have married him in front of the weirdwood tree when they retook Winterfell.

But the thing she regretted the most was taking him to her bed. Again. And again. And again.

"You weren't complaining at the time, you were quite vocal--" She shot him a glare that made him snap his mouth shut.

Brienne tried to move on the bed, flopping around like a beached whale and feeling approximately the same size. Days like this, she hated Jaime Lannister with the passion of a thousand burning suns. She hated the entire Lannister line and their propensity for twins. That hadn't come from the Tarth line, that was entirely a Lannister trait, one that Jaime wasn't suffering.

"I know, wench, I know," he said, placing a soft kiss on her brow, his voice unbearably fond. "What do you need?"

"I need to not be the size of a castle," she whined and Jaime laughed.

"Not a castle," She narrowed her eyes at him. "Maybe a small keep?"

"I'm hungry, and I need to use the chamber pot."

"I'll get food--"

"I want to go to the hall," she sounded petulant, but she couldn't help it. She hadn't left the room in almost a sennight since the maester had said the babies could be born at any moment and she should not be moving much. Sansa had visited occasionally, though she was terribly busy, but Brienne was unused to inactivity and to depend on other people for everything.

"You know you can't," Jaime said, and she hated him for sounding so reasonable and patient. "The maester said--"

"The maester is not about to climb up the walls from boredom!"

"Neither are you, wench, not as big as you are." He hefted her up, straining with the effort to lift someone as massive as Brienne. "Come one, I'll help you to the chamber pot."

She wanted to protest but it was accepting his help or disgracing herself on the bed while he went to get someone else to help her. That didn't mean she had to be happy about it. She grumbled all the way to it, then grumbled all the time she was using it, and after Jaime had helped her wash, her entire body alight with a fierce blush, she grumbled all the way back the bed. 

"See, it's not so bad," Jaime said, pressing dry lips to her forehead once she was back in bed. 

"It's unsightly that you see me like this, ugly, big, and useless," Brienne insisted, because of all the things she misliked about this past days, the fact that Jaime had to see her swollen and clumsy and unable to even wash on her own was perhaps the worst. 

Jaime's little smiled vanished at her words. "You have seen me much lower than this yet you still married me. You have cleaned filth and shit from my body yet you still love me. You have fed me and washed me and clothed me and kept me alive during my worst times. Why wouldn't I do the same for you? I am not so selfish I would leave my wife's care to others, wench, especially when she's overdue to have my child."

Brienne felt her eyes sting at his words and grabbed his undershirt to pull him down and kiss him, neither of them mentioned the wetness of her cheek when they pulled apart. 

"Children," she said, "I'm having your children. That's the reason I'm confined to this bed and the size of a castle. I'm having your twins." Jaime smiled, a happy grin that lightened his features and made him look much younger. "I still hate you."

"I know."

...


	6. The Moon - Domesticity - Insecurity - Canon 8.04 fix-it

Brienne woke up slowly, by stages, not the abrupt snap into consciousness of a seasoned soldier in the middle of a war, but the luxurious stretch of limbs she had become accustomed to in the past moon, the burrowing into the warm blankets and the warmer body pressed against hers. Except, when she went to hold Jaime's body against her, she only touched air. 

The sheets were still warm and the fire was burning merrily in the hearth, she yawned and lifted her head. Jaime was standing by the heard, his back to her, head hanging. 

_He was fully dressed._

"Jaime," Brienne rasped, suddenly gripped by a terrible fear. "Come back to bed."

He didn't move, though his back hunched further, shoulders coming up, tense. "I'm sorry," he said, barely a whisper. Brienne wouldn't have heard it if there had been any other noise in the castle, if it hadn't been the darkest hour where everyone slept. 

She had seen him like this, staring into the fire lost inside his own mind several times in the past moon since they started sharing her chambers. It usually happened when he'd had troubled sleep, or if he'd been with his brother. Brienne wasn't an idiot, she knew he was thinking about his sister, back in King's Landing, and that part of him probably wanted to be with her.

It was the part of him that usually took over during the night, when fears and demons spoke the loudest. 

She hadn't seen the shadow of Cersei during their waking hours, hadn't had to contend with her during their lovemaking, when Jaime only had eyes for her and gave his entire being to her. She wasn't there during their meals or their training. She wasn't there when Jaime sparred with Pod, nor when they were discussing the reconstruction of Winterfell and assigning jobs to the people. And she wasn't inside their chambers when they lay entwined with each other talking about their past, and the years separation, their bodies still cooling after their previous exertions. 

At night, when they slept, was a different matter. Brienne had heard him muttering her name, and had seen him get up and go stare into the fire until he was shivering, arms crossed over his own torso. He always came back to bed and warmed against her body, pressing fevered kisses to her naked skin and calling her name like a benediction. 

Brienne had feared one day he wouldn't come back to bed. 

"Jaime," she repeated. "_Please_."

He flinched as if hit, but didn't turn back. "Go back to sleep, Brienne."

She got out of the bed instead and walked to him, the coldness of the stone on her bare feel making her shiver. She had known, somehow, today would be the day Cersei's shadow would take him from her, had known it since Sansa had received the raven.

"Go back to bed, Brienne, you'll freeze," he said, still not looking at her, his voice flat and lifeless.

"You're leaving me," she said, the words hanging in the air between them. 

"I'm sorry."

"They're going to destroy that city, this time there is no sacrifice for you to make that will stop them."

"_I know that_," some bite had returned to his voice, a spark of life.

She blinked rapidly against the sting in her eyes, she knew what he meant to do if not saving the city. "You can stay here, with me, and live."

"I don't deserve that, I don't deserve you. She wouldn't have done half of the things she's done without me. She's going to die for all her crimes, but she couldn't have done it without me."

Brienne's heart clenched, half in sorrow and half in rage. "Fine," she said, the word dragged out of her. She turned and went to her clothes, and started putting her underwear on, then her undershirt and breeches. Jaime turned at the noise, an alarmed look on his face when she saw her getting dressed.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you."

She was almost gratified at the panic on his face before he smoothed it out, his jaw set. "Absolutely not. You just said it, they're going to destroy the city."

"_I know tha_t," she mimicked him. 

Jaime narrowed his eyes at her. "You're not coming, you'll die."

She mirrored his expression. "And how do you propose to stop me?" She looked at Widow's wail strapped to his waist and lifted her eyebrows in challenge. 

Jaime flinched as if struck, deflating. "_Please_. You don't deserve to die there, you belong here where people respect you. You're a Knight, you're Sansa's trusted commander."

She approached him, fully dressed and grabbed Oathkeeper from the peg where it hung, strapping it to her own waist. "You said you deserved to die because your sister wouldn't have held onto power without you," she said, playing her last card. "You wouldn't have been in a position to help her were it not for me. I got you back to her."

Jaime shook his head. "No."

"If her crimes are yours, then your crimes are mine. We can all die together in King's Landing." She headed to the door. "Come, we have to ride hard to get there in time to die with Cersei."

He grabbed her shoulder and made her turn. "What are you doing? Why are you doing this?" She saw the anguish and desperation on his face. "You have to stay here. I can ride south and face my sins if I know you are here."

"They are my sins too," she said, softly.

"No they're not, you stupid, stubborn wench!" he spat, pushing her against the door and closing the space between their bodies, caging her there. "I have to go to her, we were born together and we're meant to die the same way. But you have to live. I can't bear the idea of you dying with me, don't you see?"

"And what makes you think I can bear it if it's you?" She put her hands on her face. "You do love me, that is the reason you want me to live. I love you, and I'll try to keep you here even if you hate me for it."

"I could never hate you," Jaime whispered, horrified by the prospect. 

"If your sister loved you, she'd want you to stay here, as far from King's Landing as possible. If she wants you there so you can die with her, she doesn't love you."

She saw the moment she got through to him, the fight gone out of him. He sagged against her, his head dropping to her shoulder. Brienne encircled his back with her arms while he shook against her, not caring that her jerkin was getting wet or that her back was getting stiff. They stayed like that for an eternity, until Brienne moved them back inside the room and started the process of undressing them both. 

Jaime let her, and let her put him to bed again, curling immediately against her body. 

There would be no more sleep for either of them, but it was fine, they were together and alive. They would stay that way, the shadow of Cersei finally gone.


	7. The Hermit + The Moon - Inception AU

Jaime got the call barely an hour after his arrival in King's Landing. 

He frowned when he saw the caller name on his phone, the name bringing back memories he had thought forgotten. He felt a pang somewhere in his chest at the faces they conjured and hesitated for a moment before he answered the call.

"Hi Cat, _long time no talk to you_," he said in his silkiest tone, the one that was guaranteed to irk her. He wasn't going to admit it but he had missed Cat, almost as much as he had missed _her. "_To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?" 

"Jaime," she said, there was a quiet desperation in her voice that made Jaime straighten up, all desire to pretend suddenly gone. "I need your help, it's Brienne."

It had been five years since the last time he had spoken to Catelyn Stark, five years since they had worked together last in the Riverrun facility on the Somnacin trials, building cities and lives in each other's minds. Five years since Jaime had learned the safest way to keep secrets inside a mind was also the best way to steal them. He had wanted to stay with Cat and her merry band of scholars studying the limits of dream technology, but the use of Somnacin had reached the public and it was beginning to be exploited for money, and his family had too many secrets and enemies. 

He had returned home, just for a month, to ensure their minds had been secured and their secrets safe. 

It had been the most miserable month of his life, having to deal with his father and sister again after the freedom he had enjoyed in Riverrun. It had been followed by five more miserable years of loneliness and regret when he had been barred from returning to Riverrun, lest his father burned the facility to the ground and salted the earth. 

Jaime had tried to explain that nobody had access to his secrets, he had made sure of it, but it was a risk Tywin Lannister wasn't willing to take. And Jaime had not been willing to risk their lives.

Jaime broke most traffic laws getting to the address Cat had given him, a warehouse just off the Street of Steel. Whatever he had expected to find when he arrived it was not Cersei already plugged to a Somnacin machine. That, however, wasn't the worrying sight.

Around her sleeping body, reclined on lounge chairs with leads trailing off their arms were Brienne, Ned and Robb, Cat hovering over them with a panicked expression on her face Jaime had never seen there before, and they had spent lots of time together in dreams. 

His stomach clenched, a wave of nausea hit him. 

He had fantasized about seeing Brienne again in person for the past five years, but never like this. He had seen her a million times when he went down under when he built dreams where he never left her to keep her safe from his family, never answered the call from his brother that had cost him everything. Jaime never got the details right, never managed to imagine the perfect blue of her eyes or the pitch of her braying laugh. The feeling of her body enfolding and anchoring him was nothing but a pale illusion compared to the reality of her, the kisses they shared were fake, and Jaime had stopped seeking the empty solace of those moments. He could only remember her like the last time he'd seen her, crying and begging him to stay with her, and that sadness seeped into every projection of her he created.

Seeing her again like this was a punch to the gut. 

"What have you done?" He asked, suddenly terrified. "How long have they been there?"

"Three hours, they were supposed to be there for just fifteen minutes." Cat had never sounded so insecure and afraid and with reason. Her husband and son were traipsing around his sister's mind, not to mention Cat's protegee and Jaime's ex-fiancee.

And Cersei wasn't known for being stable.

"How many levels?" He prayed they hadn't gone further than one, but Cat's face told him everything he needed to know. They had too long inside Cersei's mind, she had the most vicious security in her head. The Mountain wasn't known for his gentleness. Jaime cursed, loudly and colourfully, already unbuttoning his shirt and pulling at the cuffs. "Why the fuck didn't you call me before doing this, Cat?"

"Would you have come if I'd told you Joff has taken Sansa and we don't know where he has her? We need the location before he does something to her worse than he's already done, and only your sister has it," Cat said, her voice picking up strength. "Would you have come if I hadn't told you Brienne's life was at risk?"

"_Yes_," he said, it was the truth. He would have taken any chance to come back to them now that Tywin was dead and couldn't threaten them anymore. He had not dared make contact himself, not after the hurt he'd caused, but would have jumped at any chance offered. "We need to get them out of there, Cersei's mind is full of traps. I put most of them there myself."

Cat stopped what she was doing. "What about Joff's location."

"I'll get that for you as well." It was the least he could do, Joff was a monster and his mother allowed him to do whatever he wanted. 

He grabbed a chair and dragged it as close as he could to Brienne, a gesture that was not missed by Cat.

"She waited for you for a long time," Cat said while she measured the new doses of Somnacin, preparing the canisters with sure hands. "You broke her heart, and she still hoped you'd come back."

"I never wanted to leave, and it wasn't my choice not to come back, you have to understand that." He looked at her face slack in sleep, her beautiful eyes closed, and vowed he would see them looking at him again. Even if the first thing she did was lay him flat with a punch.

Cat gave him an assessing look. "The mighty Tywin Lannister, may he rot in hell."

"Yes." He smoothed Brienne's hair back from her forehead and placed a soft kiss on it, wishing she wasn't so deep she couldn't feel it.

"You should have come back, Jaime. We could have protected ourselves." Cat grabbed another chair and dragged it with the others around Cersei, pulling one more lead. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She still had three other children that needed their mother.

"Arya is on the way here to keep an eye on us, I'm coming down with you."

Jaime nodded, knowing he would not convince her otherwise. "I have to warn you, there are things in there I didn't want anyone to know, especially Brienne and you." They connected the leads on their arms, grimacing at the pinprick of the needle. "I hope you can forgive me if we wake up."

"_When_ we wake up," Cat corrected him. 

"When we wake up," Jaime echoed and depressed the plunger.

...


	8. The Hermit - Loneliness - Thoughtfulness - Book Canon

Jaime watched from the shore as the boat carrying the wench's unconscious body and her two battered companions sailed from the Saltpans to the Quiet Isle. He should have gone with them, he was aware of that, if not to make sure she was healed at least to have his own injuries looked at, but he couldn't. 

He was so furious he was likely to run Brienne with his sword instead of letting the brothers heal her.

He pressed his hand against his battered ribs where one of the Brotherhood members had kicked him, the image of the guilt and pain in her blue eyes seared in his lids. 

She had lied to him. Brienne, the most honest wench in the entire Seven Kingdoms had looked him in the eye and lied to him. Had led him to trap to save her neck and that of her squire. Jaime had the urge to laugh; a squire, wouldn't it be amusing if that was the worth of his life, the ugliest maid in Westeros and her squire.

_The Stranger take her_, Jaime thought viciously at the stab of concern he felt remembering it. _She lied to him, like everyone else he had ever trusted._

He turned his horse around the moment the boat was out of sight and started the gruelling way back to his camp, if they were still there. 

It had been three days since he left with Brienne, in the middle of the night and without telling anyone where he was going. He had suspected from the start that something was amiss, but she had looked so different from the sturdy wench of his memories he had been shocked. She ha looked frail, and sad, and defeated. It hadn't even been her injuries, and Jaime knew she hadn't told him the true extent of them, her movements stilted like that of someone with broken bones and half of her face bandaged, but the way her eyes were dull and lifeless. So unlike the astonishing eyes he had occasionally thought of. 

They had been much worse by the end, when she had guided him inside the cave and into the loving arms of Catelyn Stark's corpse, those few times he had managed to catch her gaze. She had stared at her hands, riding in stubborn silence, the entire time.

Jaime had known by then that whatever awaited him there, it certainly wasn't Sansa Stark and the Hound. And yet, idiot that he was, he had willingly walked inside the cave because he trusted her, he had been trusting her up to the point where she had called

"I brought the Kingslayer as you wanted," and that name in her lips had been like being gutted with his own sword. "Where is Pod?"

That was when he realized the extent of her treachery and how stupid it had been for him to trust her, he had also trusted his sister and look where that got him.

"Kingslayer, huh?" he had said, not letting the hurt he was feeling in his voice. 

She hadn't looked to him, just hunched her shoulders and hung her head, her grip on the pommel of Oathkeeper tight enough her knuckles were white.

Then, once the cave was filled with people braying for his blood, the wench had tried to throw her life away defending him. She had put herself between Lady Stoneheart and Jaime once her squire and that knight Hyle were back by her side. 

All of them with matching rope burns around their necks.

"I'm so sorry, Jaime," she had said once it was over, her voice shredded, her face wet with tears. Jaime hadn't said anything, nor had he tried to hold her when she had just fallen to her knees, her strength completely gone. He had been too paralyzed with anger and something he was refusing to name as hurt. "I didn't know what else to do. I'm so sorry."

He had taken a step back to allow the squire and the knight to help her. The knight had looked at Jaime with hatred in his bruised face, his lip curling. "She would have died for you," he had rasped, his words dripping contempt. "And you can't even help her stand."

They hadn't spoken at all until they were in Saltpans, Brienne holding onto consciousness and life by her fingertips, Jaime holding onto his fury and bruised pride. 

He had not even said goodbye to her, just watched as they loaded her onto the barge, her mumbles growing more and more unintelligible, though he could still see them on her lips. "Sorry, Jaime. So sorry."

_The Stranger take me,_ he thought and turned his horse back, spurring him to a gallop until he was back at the shore, looking around for a barge to cross to the Quiet Isle. 

It wasn't really the wench he was so furious with, he knew why she'd lied and didn't blame her for it. It had hurt, yes, but only because he had thought her the same as Cersei for a moment. But she wasn't, there was not a woman as different from Cersei as the wench was. She had lied to protect others and tried to give her life for his. Cersei had always lied to protect herself and advance her cause, and would never risk her life for anyone.

He rushed from the boat to where he saw one of the brothers gesturing to him, as if they had been waiting for his return, and pointing to some small cottages. When he arrived, the knight and the squire were outside of cottage, while inside he could hear movement and Brienne's pained moans. 

"Have you come back to hurt her more, Kingslayer?" the knight asked, but Jaime didn't bother with a reply. "You can't go in."

"How do you propose to stop me?" he challenged, not even slowing his stride. He opened the door and one of the brothers looked at him, turning immediately back to Brienne. That was all the permission he needed, Jaime went to the head of bed, the brothers automatically parting to make space for him.

They had stripped her of armour and clothing, her white and freckled skin bruised and scarred. There were two severe wounds which were being treated and the smell of infection now the horrifying gouge on her face had been revealed. She was still muttering the same things, restless, her eyes moving frantically around, unseeing. 

Jaime knelt by her bed and took her hand in his. "I know wench," he said, almost a whisper in her ear. "I forgive you."

He pressed his lips against her knuckles, completely uncaring of who was seeing them and what conclusions they got from it, and then rested his forehead on their joined hands. 

In the bed, Brienne shuddered and exhaled once closing her eyes, finally asleep.

...


	9. The Fool - Madness - Book Canoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have made a small but significant change to the ending from when it was posted in tumblr

"Close the door and come here."

She did as he bid her. "The white cloak…"

"No longer mine and good riddance to it," Jaime said, relishing the shock on her face. He had changed out of his Lord Commander armour and cloak for the red and gold of the Lannister, and a weight he hadn't expected lifted from his shoulders when he'd shed it. No more council to attend, no more expectations, no more tedium. Let the people call him an oathbreaker for it, they had been doing it for almost twenty years, why should he care now. "It was the white cloak that soiled me, remember? Now I can regain what I once had."

He had thought of nothing else since the moment he had returned to King's Landing with the big, honourable wench in tow. He couldn't help it, he saw something of himself, of the boy who had wanted to be Arthur Dayne, in her. She had saved his life, then she had cared for him, and finally, she had brought him back to King's Landing the way she had sworn to do, even if there was nobody to uphold her oath to anymore. 

She was honourable to a fault, and it had made him believe in it for the first time in too many years.

"Jaime," she began, approaching him hesitatingly, her eyes fixed on his crimson armour. "Why? I thought you had been made Lord Commander?"

"I had and then I was released from that yoke. How can a cripple protect a King?" It had been made clear to him there was nothing left for him in King's Landing; with no hand, he could not protect his King, sparring with Addam had proven that. Cersei was lost to him, if she had ever been his, repelled now by his maiming. His brother was in the Black Cells waiting for the headsman for killing the King. 

He had gone to Tywin as soon as his sister had left him and offered him what he had always wanted; to be released from the Kingsguard, to take command of the Lannister Army and later take over as Lord of Casterly Rock. Tywin had wanted to also make a betrothal immediately, Jaime had managed to negotiate for one year of freedom. One year to set the Riverlands to rights. One year to find Lady Sansa with the wench. One year to find his honour again, and maybe his own wife if he didn't want his father to choose one for him. 

He looked at Brienne, looking uncomfortable in the blue dress, though it was a great improvement from the pink monstrosity Bolton had inflicted on her. "Did you mean what you said to Ser Loras? That I had honour?" she blurted out, a blotchy flush on her face making her even more homely.

"You do." She was the most stubbornly honourable person he had ever met, and she made him want to be as well. "And you have an oath to uphold, same as I do. Steelshakns is on his way to the North with Arya Stark."

"You gave it to him?" She cried, dismayed. "You promised--"

"_No, I didn't._" Jaime cut her off before she could start criticizing him. "My father never had her, he gave him a girl to say she is Arya Stark, there is nobody left to say she isn't. Her sister has fled the city, accused of Kingslaying. If she yet lives, she's far away from here and my brother is not talking." If he knew where she was, something Jaime doubted.

The wench frowned. "Why are you telling me this? You father's secrets?"

_Because I trust you with them._ "I pay my debts like a good little lion," he said instead. "I promised Lady Stark her daughters, one of them is still alive. We have a chance to find her."

"_We_?" she almost choked on the word.

Jaime didn't answer. "I have a gift for you." He reached under the Lord Commander's chair and brought it out. Brienne approached it cautiously as if fearful it would bite her. When she folded back the crimson cloth rubies shone alongside the gold, reflected in her astonishing eyes. She picked it up carefully, reverently, but Jaime wasn't looking at her hands but her eyes, where the wonder and covetousness were plain to see. She slid it from the scabbard, revealing the wicked black blade with red ripples in it. The wench's mouth parted, a soft exhalation falling from her lips, her eyes as wide as he had ever seen.

"Valyrian steel," she breathed, Jaime looked down at her hands holding the sword with the utmost care. "I have never seen such colours."

"Nor I," Jaime looked back up at the wench's face. He was still bitter he would never use such a fine sword himself, was angry with his father for gifting it to him now he was useless. "Take it, a sword so fine is lost on a cripple like me."

"Jaime--"

"All the best swords have names, it would please me if you called this one Oathkeeper."

"Oathkeeper," she repeated, then slid the sword back into the scabbard.

"It does come with a price, though," he said. 

Brienne's expression closed off then, her shoulders tensing, brow furrowed in a scowl. "I told you, I will never serve…"

"...such foul creatures as us. Yes, I recall," Jaime snapped, weary. Why did she always have to misinterpret everything he said? He wondered at the cleverness of his plan now, if they were incapable of one conversation while he was giving her a present, they would certainly murder each other one year on the road together. _This was madness_. And yet, he was going to go through with it. "That's not what I'm asking you to do. The price is my company, it's a steep one, I know. Do you have it in you to pay it, wench?" She snapped her mouth shut and blinked slowly. Like this, she appeared even more bovine and slow. "Have I rendered you speechless?"

"Why?" She finally asked, the same question he had been asking himself since the moment he left his father's rooms in the Tower of the Hand, a smugly confused Tywin inside who had been handed the thing Jaime had been denying him for years, and for such paltry a price. "I thought your place was here protecting your--your King?" She didn't say your son, but he heard her tongue tripping over it.

"He is protected by enough two-handed knights, he doesn't need me here. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honour, I also swore an oath to Lady Stark and I'm not upholding it stuck in King's Landing." There was much more to it, but the wench didn't need to know about his fights with his sister and the death knell of their relationship. _You great golden fool, of course he lies to you, same as I do_. She didn't need to know how useless he was now without his hand, but he was sure she would help him regain some of the skill he once had, though all was far from his reach now. She didn't know he was about to commit treason again and get his brother out of his cell. "I tire of arguing with you, take the sword and meet me in the stables at dawn on the morrow or go after Sansa on your own, it's all the same to me."

"Jaime…"

"Take the bloody sword and go before I change my mind. I have much to do before we're due to depart."

She nodded and went to the door. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Ser Jaime." 

She left before Jaime had a chance to answer and he sat down with the White Book. He had not lied, he did have much to do, he needed to fill his page in the book before passing the mantle to whoever his father deemed appropriate, and then he had to get his brother out of the black cell before meeting with the wench.

He picked up the quill and started to painstakingly write in the book, his left-handed penmanship worse than that of a boy of five. The irritation he felt with the wench's mistrustful attitude was slow to fade; he had been beaten trying to keep her honour unbesmirched, had jumped in front of a bear for her, and taken her into custody to save her from Loras. And yet, she still doubted his intentions. 

He wondered what had possessed him to believe this was a good idea.

If they didn't kill each other, they might end up married by the end of the year.

...


	10. Romance prompts - Reunion kiss - Post Book canon

The worst part is the wait. 

It's been five days since Brienne's ship departed to chase away the pirates threatening the coast of Tarth, her hand sure on Oathkeeper as she bid him goodbye, her duties as Evenstar calling her away from her home and from Jaime for the first time since that fateful day in Pennytree when they were reunited. 

Since then, they have not spent more than a day away from each other, Jaime is not coping well, to say the least.

He has his duties to keep him busy most of the time; he was appointed as Evenfall's castellan when they returned, not so much triumphant as exhausted and heartsore and clinging to each other after the Long Night. Tarth had been almost razed to the ground by the fake Aegon and King's Landing hadn't fared much better under Daenerys' tender care. Jaime was the last of his kin and had been stripped of titles and lands, and had only kept his life by the grace of Sansa Stark, who had spoken for him to her brother/cousin, the real Targaryen King.

When Brienne asked to be dismissed from the Stark's service to return home to rebuild, Jaime had followed her; he had nowhere else to go and nobody he'd rather be with. She had not questioned it, just nodded when he got on the ship with her and Pod, and found him a job to do.

In the past two years since they arrived in Tarth and took it back from the Golden Company mercenaries who had refused to leave, they have worked together to rebuild it, to earn back the trust of her people who care nothing for what they did in the North, only that they weren't there when death came and Lord Selwyn fell. 

Removing the last of the Golden Company was a beginning, as it was the efforts taken since but this is the real chance for Brienne to shine, with her sword in her hand defending her people. It's also the chance for Jaime to justify his presence in the island beyond being Brienne's sparring partner and devoted follower. He can finally use the knowledge his father drilled into him to be Lord of a castle he never got to inherit.

"We can't both leave, Jaime" Brienne had said when he had objected for the tenth time to her boarding the ship without him. "I don't trust anyone else with Evenfall."

He doesn't trust anyone else with Brienne either, but she would bristle and glare at him if he ever suggested that. Besides, she has Pod with her; the boy might still be young, but has been tested in the harshest of wars and would die before he let anything happen to his lady ser.

So she's gone, and Jaime makes sure things keep running smoothly in the castle and dodges the servants and their uncomfortable questions and knowing looks. During the evening, when he has seen to the grievances of the people of Tarth, and the training of the young ones, and the accounting for the castle, he sits alone in Brienne's solar and thinks about her, and her beautiful eyes and her rare smiles she usually bestows on him or Pod, and curses himself for a fool and a coward, and misses her.

"Ser Jaime, the Evenstar's ship has been spotted approaching the harbour," one of the servants tells him during supper, and Jaime doesn't care about finishing his food, he stands up and rushes to the stables under the amused looks of the castle's inhabitants. 

They have all seen him moping without Brienne, he doesn't have any dignity to preserve.

The ship is docked and people are coming down when he dismounts his horse; he can hear laughs and cheerful conversations, the sailors and fighters in high spirits, and that makes the last of his nerves dissolve. They wouldn't be quite so happy if there had been casualties. 

He sees Brienne then, leaning slightly on Pod and limping, a black eye and a new fresh looking scar on her brow. For a moment Jaime feels a surge of rage, hot and bitter, and he rushes to them, stopping barely a breath away from Brienne. 

"Jaime?" she asks, her astonishing eyes wide on her face. "what are you doing here?"

_I'm here for you,_ _I couldn't wait another minute to see you,_ he wants to say but doesn't. There are a million thoughts crowding in his head, all of them pushing to be let out, some are harsh imprecations that demand she take better care of herself, other are dismayed pleas for her to never leave him behind again when she goes into a fight. Most are the declarations he had kept to himself for years, the soft yearning he knows she must be able to see in his eyes, the love everyone but Brienne knows he feels.

Instead, he does what he has wanted to do for the past two years, longer even, and breaches the remaining distance between them. He takes that one final step and puts his hand on Brienne's cheek, leans up and presses his lips against Brienne's. 

Jaime feels her startle and for a moment fears Brienne will pull back and their friendship, the life they have built here, almost perfect but not quite, will be over. She doesn't, just parts her mouth with a shocked exhale and Jaime takes it as an invitation, his right arm sneaking around her waist to pull her closer, his tongue delving past her parted lips to taste her. He doesn't know how long they are there, kissing under the bright moon and Pod's embarrassed look, and when they part Brienne's face is bright red and her eyes are wide. 

Whatever she wants to say, and there are many things that need saying, she doesn't have the words for it. Not yet. And Jaime is glad for it. He offers her his hand and she hesitates for a heartbeat before taking it and immediately twining their fingers together, her face still aflame. 

They will speak, too many things unsaid between the two of them finally ready to be out in the open, but for now, there is only one thing he wants to say.

"Welcome back, my lady."


	11. A Nap - Book Canon - The Long Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the romance prompts - A Nap.   
This would be in the same universe that chapter 3

The ground was hard and cold, the thin bedroll and furs barely enough to keep them from freezing to death in this wasteland that was the North, but none of that mattered when it was finally time for them to sleep, it could have been a bed of rocks out in the open and they would have still been grateful for it every night. 

Technically it wasn't night, though Brienne couldn't remember the last time she had seen the sun. Around them there was only darkness so profound there were no stars or moon, just the fires that felt barely sufficient to keep them from freezing to death and crashing blindly into each other.

The Long Night had been aptly named.

She didn't know whether it was morning or evening, just that they had a two hour rest period before they had to go back to the fray for however long they could stand, or survive. Jaime and Brienne slept together, pressed as close as two people still wearing armour and leather could be, drawing what little warmth or comfort from each other they could. They had a small tent just for the two of them, a luxury only commanders were afforded and an impropriety nobody cared about, not anymore. 

In another time, in another life, she had been named Kingslayer's whore just for calling his name in the middle of her delirium. Now they shared everything, bedroll, what little clothes they had to change, food and tent, yet people called her Ser Brienne and him Ser Jaime. 

They had kept their vows and finally delivered Sansa Stark to a Winterfell no longer under Bolton control, Jon Snow had hugged her tight enough they might have heard her bones creaking if they had been close, but Sansa had been clutching him with the same desperation, her face betraying no discomfort under the slow fall of her tears. 

Just for that, it all had been worth it. 

Brienne had expected Jaime to leave then. They hadn't had any news from the capital for moons, not since they had learned of the Golden Company's advance from Tarth, and he had to be eager to return to his King. 

"Where and I supposed to go, wench?" Jaime had asked, they were sitting in the long tables in Winterfell's Hall, a bowl of hot stew and a cup of watered-down ale in front of them. It was the best food they'd had in moons, and they had fallen on it like starved beasts, not the highborn lord and lady they were supposed to be. 

They didn't look the part, either. Their long trek through Westeros had left them looking gaunt and unkempt, their clothing little more than tatters, the only golden thing about Jaime the pommel of his sword and his hand. 

"Your family--"

"Either believes me dead or wishes I was. I have nothing waiting for me there," he had said with a shrug that did nothing to dispel the ghosts in his gaze. He had looked at her seriously then and grabbed her hand with his left, his voice quieter than she had heard before. "If you want me to leave, now that we got Sansa back to her brother, tell me and I will."

"_Stay_," she had said, putting in the word all those feelings she kept bottled inside but was sure he knew.

Jaime had smiled at her. "I will wench, if they have me. I'm not leaving your side."

They did have him. Jon Snow had explained the situation at the Wall and the enemy that was coming, and had asked whether they would fight with them. 

"You are too much of a Stark to be scared of old tales so it must be true," had been Jaime's answer. "Any emerging King or Queen in the war in the South is going to have my head, I'd rather die with a sword in my hand defending the living."

It looked more and more like they would, but Brienne didn't have it in her to regret it either.

A gust of biting wind shook the flaps of the tent and made her shiver, and Brienne burrowed even closer to Jaime. He didn't twitch, only the steady sound of his breathing proof that he was still alive. Brienne knew she should close her eyes and sleep as well, the Gods knew when she would have another chance and she was exhausted. She was beyond exhausted, actually, she couldn't remember the last time she had slept on a bed or enjoyed a hot bath, and that stew and ale in Winterfell felt like a memory from another life. 

She couldn't sleep, though. There had been a moment in this last fight cycle when she had lost sight of Jaime, had seen him go down under the onslaught of enemies. For the seconds it had taken him to slash his way back to his feet, Brienne had felt the world collapsing around her. She had kept fighting, of course, or she would have been dead the next instant, but the pain she had felt had overshadowed any she had felt in her life. 

Now Jaime slept in her arms, and she knew they were going to die. Soon. Unless a miracle happened, they were only delaying the enemy, they didn't have much time. She looked at him; he also looked beyond exhausted, with dark bruises under his eyes and sunken cheeks covered in a tangled beard that was more silver than gold. His hair was long and matted like she remembered from Riverrun and under his armour, she could count his ribs if she pressed her hand to his torso. He was still beautiful and she was grateful to have him with her.

"You should be sleeping," he said, his breath caressing her face, and Brienne startled. 

Jaime just tightened his arms around her, as if afraid she might bolt, and opened his eyes. They were still the same vibrant green that reminded Brienne of her home, of the forests over the mountains of Tarth. 

"I can't," she said, her voice barely a rasp.

"You have to, wench." Jaime matched her tone and even in the dim light, she could see the concern in his eyes. "We're back there soon, you need to sleep or you'll die. And you can't die on me."

"You almost did." She still shuddered thinking of those painful seconds when she thought him dead.

"I didn't, and if the Old Gods are looking out for us, we might yet survive. I will need you with me, Brienne. I can't do this on my own anymore." She stared at him with wide eyes, her heart tripping all over itself. He was looking at her with a soft and fond expression she had never seen a man who wasn't her father directing at her. She was afraid to even breathe in case he stopped talking. "I have nothing to offer, no gold no house and no honour, but I am a selfish man and I still want you by my side. We can be hedge knights together, I did knight you after all, and if the world still turns after this, it's going to need you as much as I do."

"I'll stay with you," she breathed and he smiled, leaning forward. 

Brienne thought for a wild moment he was going to kiss her, but he just pressed their foreheads together, the contact more intimate than any she's ever had. "Sleep then, wench, for however long we can. We have the end of the world to survive."

Brienne closed her eyes, tightening her arms around him, and when his lips finally pressed against hers, whisper-soft and barely there, she followed the kiss into a dream where there was sunlight, and warmth, and they kissed in front of a Weirdwood tree.


	12. A Frightened Kiss - Book Canon AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one would be in the same universe as Chapter 9, The Fool. Book Canon AU

It was raining outside the Inn at the Crossroads, the pitter-patter of the drops hitting the muddy ground and the stone structure creating a cocoon around them, the cacophony of screaming children inside the inn only adding to the feeling of irreality of the place. Jaime felt an itch at the back of his mind and at the end of his stump just for being there again, a feeling enhanced by the ghost of King Robert, the flesh one and the one in his memories, and his animosity towards him. Not that Jaime had ever been popular in the Riverlands, even before the Red Wedding.

Lannister gold still spent well, though, and the innkeeper wasn't too young not to know how to barter for a lumpy mattress and some horsemeat. Still, better inside than outside with the rain, though Brienne had run after Robert's bastard as if she was chasing her own ghosts.

"She's taking too long," Jaime said to Septon Meribald, the usual worry that took hold of him when he couldn't see the wench clear in his voice. 

"She's talking to the boy, my Lord, no use in fretting."

Jaime pursed his lips, unconvinced. The wench was more than capable of taking care of herself, as she had proven during the last few moons of them travelling together, and yet he couldn't shake the bad feeling in his gut. He didn't know when he had stopped looking at Brienne as a big, ugly, and honourable irritation, but somewhere between King's Landing and Maidenpool he had stopped trying to provoke her into anger and had started to try getting a different response out of her. It might have been in Duskendale, where a raven had been waiting for Jaime with news of his father's death. 

There was no word of his involvement in it or accusations of being the one responsible, just that he was now Lord Lannister and his Uncle Kevan had taken over his father's duties in King's Landing. 

"You should go back," Brienne had said to him after offering her condolences. "Your sister and your King will need you now more than ever."

His sister, who had rejected him when he was crippled and had been deceiving him for years, probably fucking her way through pawns to do her bidding while he languished in Riverrun and boasted about his fidelity. What a fucking joke. 

No, he wasn't going back to King's Landing. He wasn't going to Casterly Rock either, let the castellan keep his duties for a bit longer, Jaime was in no rush to become Lord Lannister.

"We haven't found Sansa Stark yet," he had said, and that had been the end of that argument. 

They didn't find Sansa in Duskendale, though they found Podrick Payne, who had been his murderous brother's squire and followed Brienne around like a duckling. Jaime tried to keep his distance from the boy as much as he could, a reminder of his brother and the part he had played in both the ruin of Tyrion and the death of Tywin. It was a good thing the boy seemed to be terrified of him. 

They didn't find her either in Maidenpool, though that place was full of memories. There they found that pest Hyle Hunt, who followed the wench to Crackclaw point. It had been a blessing in disguise, Jaime had been next to useless during that fight in spite of the training Brienne put him through every morning. 

It could have been there that Jaime's feelings changed, when the wench had cut off Zollo's hand before killing him. 

"_That one's for Jaime_," she had hissed at the fat Dothraki, as if he wasn't just a few feet away fending off Pym as best he could with his clumsy left, and at that moment, she had been the Warrior herself and Jaime had believed in Gods for the first time in ages. 

He had wondered at himself, how he had ever believed the wench to be anything other than magnificent, that was what she was with Oathkeeper in her hand and the blood of those who had tormented them staining her armour. 

Jaime didn't know what he would have done or said to her then if Hyle Hunt hadn't been with them. He had hated Hyle from the moment he had seen his familiarity with Brienne, had wanted to crack his golden hand against his mouth the first time he had offered to marry the wench. 

"All women look the same in the dark, Brienne," he had said, and Jaime had to clench his jaw to keep a retort behind his teeth. They were talking quietly enough that he shouldn't have been able to hear them from where he was. "You can't think _he_ is going to offer to marry you? What do I care he's despoiled you? Tarh is prize enough without your maidenhead."

"Yes, you lost that bet as well," Brienne has said, sounding beyond weary. "I'm not marrying you or sleeping with him, and I'm not speaking about this anymore."

She had kept Pod between her and Hyle the rest of the way back to Maidenpool. Jaime had not been sorry to see him go back to Tarly with the Mummer's heads like a grisly prize. Hyle had a parting shot, though, because he really was a cunt and didn't take rejection lightly. 

"I don't know how you convinced her that you care for her," he had said looking at Jaime with distaste and envy. "As if you didn't have enough money already and would have any use for her once you go back to your castle. Tell her I don't mind her despoiled, but I won't be raising any bastards."

Jaime had finally given in to the impulse and had backhanded him across the mouth. "She's a highborn lady and a maid and you will speak of her with respect," Jaime had snarled. "Her rejecting you has nothing to do with me, you disgusting little worm." Hyle's hand had gone to his sword, then he had looked to the side where Brienne was and removed it, standing from where he had fallen with as much dignity as he could muster. 

They both knew Jaime was no rival for him, and they also knew Brienne would not hesitate to kill him if he attacked Jaime. 

Hyle had turned on his heel and left, and Jaime had thought of nothing else but his words the entire time. Jaime had not thought what he would do once they found Sansa Stark and he had to go back to Casterly Rock and take a wife, but he knew he didn't want to be parted from Brienne. He had thought before they set out from King's Landing that if they didn't kill each other, they might end up married. It had been little more than a joke then, with Tywin alive she would not have been good enough for him. But Tywin couldn't choose his bride for him anymore, now Jaime knew she was too good for him and exactly what he wanted.

He just didn't know how to say it.

There was the rumble of thunder in the distance and a loud crash outside, and Jaime stood from the table, his hand already on the pommel of his sword. Something was wrong, he had only taken his eyes off her for five minutes, but of course the wench had already gotten herself in trouble. 

"My Lord, just wait here," Meribald said but Jaime paid him no heed. "It's only the storm."

Outside there were several men surrounding the wench, she was fighting with all she had the way she had done at the Whispers, Robert's bastard and the little innkeeper watching with horrorstruck expressions on their faces. Jaime got a good look at the man Brienne was fighting and felt his gorge rising, his hand trembling and his stump aching. _Rorge_. Jaime swallowed. The Riverlands were full of ghosts. Rorge slipped in the mud and the wench grabbed Oathkeeper with both hands and plunged it into him, leaning forward until their faces were almost touching. Her lips moved but Jaime could only hear the blood rushing in his ears and the rain around them, and she twisted the sword. Rorge was dead, another of her nightmares slain by her own hand. 

Jaime was frozen, staring at her drenched with rain and trembling with bloodlust, she let the corpse fall and was about to take a step back when from the sides something crashed against her and sent her to the ground. Not something, someone. Jaime only got half a look at him but that was enough to see the pointy teeth and deranged eyes, his shrieking loud enough to drown the rest of the sounds. That spurred him into movement, horror and the memories of his own nightmares pushing him forward. The rest of the group moved as well as if an enchantment had dispelled.

Jaime ignored them, his attention focused only on the figures writhing on the ground, he wondered why she hadn't sent for him when she'd seen who her foe was. That didn't matter now, though, a man got in his way before he could reach the wench and Jaime was forced to fight, to try to fend him off on his own. Desperation and the moons of training with Brienne gave skill to his sword, his hand steady and his aim true, and the man was dead before their fight had properly started. On the ground, Brienne was struggling to push Biter away from her, but madness had given him strength, his hands around her neck as she pushed and bucked and screamed. Biter leaned down, as if a lover about to kiss her, his mouth opened wide. Jaime rushed he last feet separating them, he couldn't just stab him in the back or he risked injuring the wench. With a curse, Jaime used his golden hand to punch Biter's head and heard a scream, pained and terrified which could only come from Brienne. He stabbed his sword through his neck as soon as his head had moved an inch away from Brienne's, and pushed him away from her body. Around him, the noises of the fights were fading, or it might be he didn't care anymore now the wench was safe.

Jaime knelt next to her. "Wench, he's dead. You're alright, he's dead." he put his sword by her side and used his hand to check her as best he could. There was blood all over her face, from where it had spurted from his neck and also from some puncture wounds on her cheek. Jaime shivered, his stomach clenching when he realized what he was looking at. Teeth marks, the cunt had tried to bite Brienne's face off; it was luck Jaime had killed him before he could tear the bite off.

Brienne was staring into the distance, trembling, eyes wide and her mouth still open in a scream. "Brienne," Jaime said, leaning until he was in her field of vision. "You're alright." He put his arm under her neck and pulled her up and against his body, holding her tightly. Brienne was taking big gulps of air, her entire body rigid and shaking, her eyes wild. Then her eyes focused on Jaime, she tensed further before her body sagged, head falling forward until her forehead was pressed against Jaime's.

"Jaime?" she asked, her voice shredded and small. 

_Yes, everything will be alright_, Jaime wanted to say, except he couldn't say anything. His mouth was covered by a cold and clumsy one, plump lips pressed against his. He didn't know who had been the one to do it, it could have been him, he had certainly thought about it enough lately. Or it could have been Brienne, she was still shaking apart in his arms, her eyes as big as he had ever seen them, her hands finally surrounding him. He didn't care who had started it, or that Brienne tasted of blood and desperation, he just cared that she was kissing him. 

He had never wanted to kiss anyone but Cersei before, now he knew he would never kiss anyone but Brienne. If she wanted to keep doing that. 

He reluctantly pulled away when a hand gripped his shoulder. The little innkeeper was by his side, looking at them with a frown. Around them two more of the men were dead and the last ones must have fled, Robert's bastard was nowhere to be seen either. "You don't have time for that," the girl said. "You have to leave."

"What?" Jaime asked, confused. Now he wasn't fighting and he wasn't kissing Brienne he felt the downpour falling on them once again, and how uncomfortable were his sodden clothes and the muddy ground where he was kneeling. "We'll go to our room."

"No, you have to leave. Gendry's friends are coming and they are no friends of yours, they hang Lannisters and Freys." The Brotherhood they had heard about during their travels, Jaime was certain. If they hung Lannisters for sport, there was no telling what they would do if they got their hands on the Kingslayer.

He stood up and helped Brienne, who still appeared to be in shock. She needed a warm bath and a good night of sleep. And a maester to look at her injuries. She was going to get neither. "Why are you telling me this?"

"That monster she killed was going to--" he voice trailed off and the girl shuddered, her face pale. Jaime knew what Rorge did to girls. "I don't care if they kill you, one Lannister less, and the Lord at that. But she saved me, saved all of us, and they would kill her as well. I'll keep your gold, though." She started walking inside the inn and Jaime followed her. 

"Give us some food to take with us and I'll give you another gold dragon."

"Two," the girl bartered. 

"Two," he agreed, not surprised to realize he liked her. The girl immediately shouted to one of the boys to prepare some food and Jaime paid her. 

Once they were inside the inn Brienne appeared to come back to herself a bit, her hand going to her cheek first, shoulders sagging when she touched the flesh still there, though bloody. Then she pressed her fingers to her lips and turned huge eyes on him, her face flushing a blotchy red even under the blood covering her. "Jaime, what are you doing?"

"We can't stay here."

"We just arrived," she said, her hand still on her mouth. "You kissed me."

"I did."

"_Why_?" She was looking at him as if she couldn't fully understand what was happening and Jaime didn't have the words to tell her just yet. There wasn't just one answer to that. Because I have wanted to for a long time. Because I thought Biter had killed you and I couldn't bear the thought. Because you cut Zollo's hand for me and killed Rorge for a girl who would have let you hang. Because you really are the Warrior and the Maid and so much better than all of that. 

They didn't have the time for that, though.

"Do you trust me?" Jaime asked instead, and she nodded, no hesitation at all. Just for that, Jaime wanted to kiss her again. It wasn't the time or the place, though. He took her hand in his and squeezed it. "Then we have to go, I'll explain on the way."

They would go back to the Quiet Isle, they could rest there for a few days before resuming their search for Sansa Stark, and this time he would insist on them staying together. 

As husband and wife, if necessary. 

...


	13. One night stand and unplanned pregnancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the shortfic prompts in tumblr, not so short, though :)

Brienne sat in the doctor's waiting room with the kind of expression on her face one would expect at a funeral, not when about to bring a new life into the world. Or so Marg had said when they came the previous time. She couldn't help it, she had never prepared herself for motherhood and to say that she was terrified would be a vast understatement. 

With a sigh, Brienne pressed her hands against her swollen belly and forced herself to relax. 

"You're not unwanted," she said to the tiny being that was forming inside of her, it was important that they knew even before they were born that they were loved. "Just unexpected."

Another understatement. 

Unexpected had been finding out her boyfriend was cheating on her the day before they were due to leave on holiday, and Brienne's sudden decision to go on her own to the Summer Islands since she had already paid for the holiday. Equipped with a few dresses, a bottle of sunblock, and a few books Brienne had spent a week in a resort sipping margaritas by the beach and getting used to the idea that she was better off without Hyle. 

The man who had taken the sunbed next to her on the day before she was due to leave, golden and beautiful as a God, had been as surprising as his overt flirting.

"You missed a spot on your back," he had said, rousing her from the doze she had fallen in while she read. Brienne had turned her head to see a set of abs that belonged on a movie made with CGI, a sculpted torso with a scattering of fine blond hair, a grinning mouth and piercing green eyes topped by golden curls falling to taut and bronzed shoulders. Her mouth had dried and her skin had flushed, not that her entire body didn't already feel on fire. "This is not a come-on, you're going to get sunburned."

Brienne had blinked, still fuzzy from sleep, and had wondered whether she was really awake. The Warrior only came to her in dreams.

The man's smile had ticked up in one corner, amused. She had obviously said that out loud, and even if she wasn't sunburned she was about to spontaneously combust from embarrassment. He'd then given Brienne the most obvious and over the top checking look of her entire life, his eyes raking her body from her long and bony feet, up her legs and torso while she turned on the sunbed to face him. He had finally stopped by her face, but instead of the usual shock and distaste she was so used to see, he had only smiled wider.

"You know what, feel free to consider this a come-on if it works," he had said with a smile that had no business being so attractive. "I'm Jaime."

It had worked. 

"I'm Brienne," she had said handing him the bottle of sunblock and very deliberately turning her back to him. 

At the first touch of his hands, Brienne had already known she was going to spend the night with him, another very unexpected thing, and a low simmer of want had started in her gut.

Brienne had never had a one night stand. Most men didn't go for someone with her looks, and Brienne was a romantic at heart and wanted something more than sex. But it was her last night on the island, a man as handsome as the Warrior was clearly interested in her, and she had just broken up with her boyfriend. 

She had to be crazy to turn down what was on offer.

She had thought it would be quick and a bit sleazy, the way Marg's string of hookups and one night stands had always felt for her. Instead, Jaime had ordered another round of drinks and lounged on his own sunbed chatting with her for hours, the sun inching down over the sea until the sky became pink and purple. They had gone for dinner after, the conversation never faltering or turning personal. 

By the time they had gone to Jaime's room, Brienne had known his first name and the fact that his little brother had sent him on vacation. She had also known that he liked medieval history and martial arts, that he wasn't much of a reader but devoured audiobooks, that he preferred sci-fi to fantasy and movies to TV shows, he was allergic to cats but he would endure the sneezing session if it made his little nephew, who was obsessed with them, smile for a bit. She had learned that he loved diving and swimming and that he missed the sea as much as Brienne did, he disliked peppers but loved everything peanut, and that he looked at her as if she was a spread he wanted to devour.

He had done just that the moment they were behind closed doors. 

"I have wanted to do this for hours," he had growled against the skin of her throat after the first few kisses, her lips still tingling with the force of them. 

They had stumbled to his bed where he had wasted no time spreading her open and putting his mouth everywhere, diving with gusto as if making her scream was a treat for him instead of her. He had made her scream, but that hadn't been the most memorable thing about the night. He had also made her laugh, Brienne had not known sex was supposed to be funny, and breathless, and silly. That between kisses and touches there were conversations to be had, lying naked on the bed and sharing a glass of wine. 

"Can I draw constellations on your skin?" Jaime had asked while their sweat dried the second time, and he had dipped his finger in the wine and traced Brienne's freckles only to then lick the wine off her.

"I saw a school of fishes when diving today, they were the most extraordinary colour," he had whispered against her breasts, raising goosebumps and making her shiver, "and they weren't as beautiful as your eyes."

He had dozed with his head on her stomach, a low sound that was almost a purr coming from him while she tangled her fingers into his hair. "You remind me of a big cat, a golden one like the one in old heraldry," she had whispered and felt the reverberations of his laughter on her skin. 

He had finally fallen asleep when the sun was peeking out of the horizon, Brienne had regretfully disentangled herself from him and gone back to her room to pick up her things and head to the airport. She had a couple of hours extra wait there, but if she had stayed longer in bed with him, Brienne might have decided to never leave and that wasn't what he had signed up for. She had thought about leaving her phone, something to give him a chance to contact her, but they had not shared personal information for a reason. 

It was a one night stand, one that had felt more like the beginning of something, but it was just that.

Jaime had not been far from her thoughts during the month after she returned to her normal life in King's Landing, her apartment thankfully empty of her ex, their day together had felt like one of those romcoms that Sansa adored and Brienne pretended not to. She had thought less and less about him, or at least she had tried to, it was ridiculous to be so infatuated with a one night stand she was never going to see again. 

Then her period hadn't come and she had thought nothing of it because they had used protection, she knew she had not had sex with Hyle between her last period and their break up, what were the chances of one of the condoms to have failed on that particular night?

Then she had missed a second period. Seeing the line in the pregnancy test changing colours had not been unexpected, had been life-altering. For an entire week, Brienne had been too stunned and too afraid by what was happening, her mind either screeching to halt or skittering around the subject when she even thought about the P-word.

She had considered trying to contact Jaime then but the truth was she didn't know how, and one night stands, no matter how good, were not supposed to bring this kind of complications. 

She had thought about him, though. Frequently. Had wondered whether he would smile like he had done during their dinner together while they argued about the merits of the TV adaptation of the Long Night series. Not much of an argument, both of them had agreed it was mishandled and then spent the entire dinner pointing out historical inaccuracies on both book and show. Would he be the kind of man to spoil their child like he seemed to spoil his nephew? Would he look at them the way her father looked at her, regardless of their appearance? She had the feeling he would be, that even if they never had anything else together, he would love their child. 

Sometimes Brienne wished she hadn't been so hasty to run and had asked for his number. Or given him hers. 

"Miss Tarth?" A nurse called her snapping her out of her thoughts. Brienne looked up and tried for a smile, not very successfully. "Doctor Lannister will see you know."

Brienne stood up and headed to the door with the name _'Dr. J. Lannister'_ on the door, a referral from her GP. He was supposed to be the best OB-Gyn in King's Landing. 

The first thing she saw when she opened the door was a mass of golden curls, then Dr. Lannister's head lifted from the file in his hand and there were those green eyes, and those high cheekbones and the sharp jaw, now slack in shock. Brienne's breath left her lungs in a rush, her knees threatening to dump her on the floor. 

"_Brienne_?" Jaime asked, his eyes moving all over her avidly, as if he had also wanted to see her again, as if he had thought about her as well. "You are Brienne Tarth."

She nodded at him, dumbly, and walked to the chair on unsteady feet. What were the odds?

"You're pregnant," his voice sounded strange, strangled. He looked down at the paperwork she remembered filling, how precise she had been on one particular field. "That night?"

She nodded again and waited for the explosion. Then he smiled, wide and happy. 

That was the most unexpected thing of them all.

...


	14. Going through a divorce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the short fic prompt - going through a divorce, featuring, fake relationship, misunderstandings and mutual pining, because just one trope can never be enough

The documents arrived just on the day they had agreed as Jaime knew they would. He was left standing with his back to the door of his brand new and empty flat with his hands holding the paper that was supposed to cleanly sever the most important relationship of his life.

No-fault divorce, as painless and bloodless as they had planned, laughing, two years ago while they drank Tyrion's excellent wine. 

This didn't feel painless to Jaime. 

It had been a great idea like all of Tyrion's ideas always were, and it had backfired and exploded on Jaime's face like they usually did.

"You two are already more married than most couples," Tyrion had said waving his glass around, the wine sloshing dangerously, his voice slightly slurred. "You get your father off your back for a while," he'd said pointing at Brienne, "and you'll get Aunt Genna off yours and fulfil the terms of the inheritance." The inheritance, his father's last laugh. Jaime cared nothing for the family fortune, he had his own money but unless he married before his thirtieth birthday neither of Tywin's children would inherit a gold dragon. Tywin had known he would do it for Tyrion, if not himself, and was manipulating Jaime even from beyond the grave. "You forget to sign a prenup, stay married for two years, and at the end of it you have the last fuck you for the old man by giving half of it to Brienne so she can donate it to kitties or dolphins or whatever the fuck she wants."

It had felt like such a good idea just then. Brienne had laughed, eyes sparkling and Jaime had lifted his glass on a toast.

"Ms. Lannister," he had said, clinking his glass with hers. 

"Mr. Tarth," she had countered, her voice raspy and low and so amused.

"See, you guys will be fine." Tyrion had joined his glass to theirs and they had all downed their glasses. 

Jaime and Brienne had married the following week, just the two of them in front of a judge signing some documents, and it had been fine. It had been more than fine, nothing had significantly changed as they had been living together for a couple of years already. They still had their own rooms but shared everything else, they still had their arguments about silly stuff and they still went out together more often than apart.

Brienne still scolded Jaime for leaving his dirty dishes in the sink instead of the dishwasher, except now she would say, "I don't know why I married you, you'll be sleeping on the couch for a week," and they would both laugh at that.

Jaime still would drink the sludge she made in the mornings pretending to be coffee and moan about it. "I should have chosen a more skilled wife." 

Brienne always cuffed him over the head for that. "Then make your own coffee, you lazy husband."

"I should have married a less violent wife," Jaime would moan between fits of laughter.

It became their go-to joke when they were watching TV and fighting for the remote, when they were running in the mornings and met the neighbours, or when they got back home after work and Jaime would say, "Darling, I'm home," and Brienne would throw whatever she had at hand at his head.

It was perfect for a year and a half, it was everything Jaime had always wanted in a relationship and if sometimes he looked at Brienne, pressed against his side on the couch snoring lightly while pretending to still watch a movie, and felt the urge to kiss her, well that was just to be expected. 

They were husband and wife, it was normal to want to kiss your wife. 

Then they got drunk during Brienne's birthday dinner and woke up together in Jaime's bed, without clothes and without memories of how they got there. At least Jaime couldn't remember. He tried to laugh it off, though there was a weight settling in his stomach when he saw her horrified expression.

They had obviously had sex, and it was just as obvious that Brienne regretted it, if the way she looked at him and the haste with which she fled his room were any indication. The only thing Jaime regretted was that he didn't remember making love to Brienne. He had not known how much he wanted it until now, and it was clear there would be no repeat performance.

He had missed his chance, but at least he still had his friend. 

Or so he had told himself, for the first time since they had met in college, he was feeling awkward around Brienne and couldn't meet her eyes.

The awkwardness didn't disappear during the first few days, no matter how hard Jaime tried. He made the effort of behaving exactly the same way as he had done before, going out for a run in the mornings with Brienne though the conversation was now strained instead of easy, and Brienne always steered them away from their neighbours. He would plan movie nights like before, buying their favourite snacks, but Brienne always had plans with other friends lately. They hadn't shared the couch since that night, not they had shared a touch, when before they would brush against each other and rest together continuously. 

One morning, he complained about the coffee as always but Brienne didn't cuff him or follow the joke. 

"Sorry I can't make it any other way, you shouldn't drink it if it's that bad," Brienne snapped at him, her voice sharp though she wasn't looking at him. Jaime froze, the smile falling from his lips and the weight in his gut increasing.

The next morning she didn't make any coffee and Jaime felt the loss as more than the awful sludge.

"Darling, I'm home," he said coming back one night and seeing that Brienne was home, a desperate hope things could be back to normal. It was becoming a rare sight to come home to her dancing in the kitchen while she cooked, or sprawled on the couch with a book. More often than not she was already in her room, the door closed like a barrier between the two of them Jaime didn't know how to break.

Brienne's head snapped up and she stared at him with wounded eyes right before she closed her book and stood from the couch. "Can't you stop it? It's not funny," she said, and that was all Jaime could stand. 

He missed his best friend, it had been two months since that night and it felt like he had lost her, completely. Awkwardness he could understand, and he'd been trying to get past it, but Brienne was at points sad and angry, she had been withdrawing from him, and Jaime didn't know what to do anymore to stop it. "You used to think it was," he said, taking off his coat and hanging it on the back of the chair, something she would always scold him for. Brienne narrowed her eyes at it but said nothing. "Talk to me, Brienne. Don't go back to your room and hide there." 

She crossed her arms over her chest, tense, braced for impact. "I don't think I want to do this anymore."

"This?" he asked, though he knew what she meant. He just didn't want to believe it, "you mean us? Because of that night."

"Yes."

"Did I--" he started to ask, unsure of how to continue. He had no memories, as much as he would have loved to, of that night. He had tried, every single night since then to recall the taste of her lips and the feel of her body, he had tried to remember whether she had moaned or sighed, and if she had held him as tight as he wanted to hold her. But maybe it hadn't been like that. "Did I hurt you?"

Her eyes softened a bit at that. "No, _not like that_." She sighed, her mouth turning down at the corners. "It's not--I--you don't." She stopped and swallowed and Jaime waited for her to continue.

"Then why?" He asked when it was obvious she wasn't going to say anything else, he didn't understand. "I miss you, I miss my friend, why can't things be like before?" He wouldn't push for more if he could have their old relationship back. He could be, if not happy, at least content with it. 

Brienne looked like she was about to cry but turned and went to her room before she did. "I'm sorry, _I can't_."

She had gone to stay with Margaery the next day and Jaime had moved out of their apartment. 

He had made sure it went to her in the divorce settlement, along with half of everything he had. He would give it all, all of Tywin's misbegotten fortune and his own on top, if he could get his best friend back. He looked at the papers in his hand and sighed, checking them again, then paused. 

Jaime scanned the paperwork and saw all the changes she had made. Brienne had refused the money and properties that he had stipulated, had only requested things with sentimental value, like the painting of the Blue Knight Jaime had bought for her years ago. She had signed the papers and there were smudges where her name was, the ink spreading in a circular pattern which looked suspiciously like tear marks. 

She had been crying.

Maybe, Jaime dared hope, she missed him just as much as he missed her. Maybe he had been mistaken and she hadn't regretted sleeping with him because she didn't love him but because she did, and his trying to make it as if nothing had changed has hurt her. Maybe he was grasping at straws, but what did he care? He had already lost Brienne. 

Jaime was knocking on the door of his own flat ten minutes later, still short of breath because he'd not had the patience to wait for the lift. The door was wrenched open on the second round of knocking, "I've told you I'm fine, Marg," Brienne said before she closed her mouth with a click. She didn't look fine, she looked as miserable as Jaime felt. Her eyes were red and puffy, her nose runny and her mouth downturned. She was the best thing he had ever seen. "Jaime."

He pushed the divorce papers against her chest. "I don't want to sign them," Jaime said, not giving her the chance to say anything else. "I want my best friend back, but more than that, I want my wife back. I'm sorry I was so dense and didn't realize I loved you before I married you, but now that I know I don't want to leave. These last months have been awful." Her eyes were impossibly wide and there was a new light coming to them, one that had been missing since that night. "Do you want to stay married to me? This time for real?"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, closing the door and pushing him against it. She then pressed her lips against his and kissed him, long and deep, Jaime clinging to her for dear life. There was no way he didn't remember this one.

She pulled back and pressed her forehead against his, smiling. "_I do_."


	15. Fake relationship + two miserable people at a wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't choose just one of the prompts, so I decided to combine them

The reception hall was lavishly decorated and filled with Westeros' rich and beautiful, the most expensive food and champagne flowing freely as a sign of the newlyweds status, the exclusive party had already been dubbed as the social event of the year. 

Brienne wanted to be anywhere but there, though she had not been able to avoid it.

"You have to go in my stead, my child," her father had said, looking regretful and pained, his leg still on a cast. "Robert is one of our oldest investors and I already confirmed my assistance."

She had known he was right, but that didn't mean she had to like it. So Brienne had flown to Storm's End for the wedding and made herself as presentable as possible, subjecting herself to the tender care of a stylist, something she very rarely did for herself. She was representing Evenstar enterprises, after all.

She had represented it from the darkest corner of the sept, though, pulling awkwardly at the hem of her very short dress while she teetered on the high heels the stylist had insisted on because "It makes your legs look endless," and trying not to touch her face and smudge her make-up. The sept was full of people, all starry-eyed as Robert Baratheon exchanged vows with Cersei Lannister, who was as beautiful as the statues of the Maiden adorning the sept.

There had been another person hiding in the shadows, Brienne was probably the only one who had seen him arrive and lean against the wall by the door, his handsome face twisted into a sneer, his eyes narrowed where they were set on the bride. It wasn't hard to recognize him, golden and richly dressed and as beautiful as Cersei. That had to be the infamous Jaime Lannister, the black sheep of the family who had, according to the rumours, refused to work for his father's company and had established his own security firm.

Brienne had sneaked some looks at him during the ceremony only to find his eyes on her, the sneer completely gone from his face, on more than one occasion. He had left before the bride and groom kissed, though she had stayed to congratulate the happy couple after the ceremony and present hers and her father's respects. 

Brienne wondered now whether he would be in the reception, not that it mattered, it wasn't as if Brienne was going to talk to him, even if he had been the only person who looked like he wanted to be there less than she did.

She pulled one more time at the dress and went to check which table she was going to be sitting in. With some luck, it will be the same as the Tyrells, whom she knew and liked though they didn't quite move in the same circles. She found her name and the table number and headed that way, snatching a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. 

Brienne froze when she reached the table, her entire body frozen in shock. _Oh no._ She looked frantically around, hoping to see a friendly face so she could move in their direction without looking like she was fleeing, the only one was Jaime Lannister who appeared to have seen her that moment. 

He wasn't the only one who had seen her. 

"Look at that, it's Brienne the Beauty!" a taunting voice said, almost shouted, from her table. "You clean up--No, not that nicely. Still have the same face."

She turned in time to see Ronnet Connington, the asshole who had made her life hell in university, and his cohorts laughing heartily. At her expense, like they used to do. She couldn't believe she had been so unlucky. 

"Ron," she said as coldly as she could though her face was burning and her stomach was churning. "I see you still have the same childish humour."

He grinned as if she was the funniest thing in the world, though his eyes were cold and full of derision. "Yep, and I have so many other jokes to tell." All at her expense, she knew. "This reception is going to be so much fun, if your face doesn't turn our appetites." They laughed again and Brienne gritted her teeth, her fists clenched. 

She couldn't do this, if she sat down in that table and had to spend one second more with those men, she was going to punch one of them, and then her father would be very upset with her.

"There's been a mistake with the seating arrangement, I was just coming to collect the card. I'm sitting over there," she gestured vaguely without even looking where, shocked at hos steady her voice sounded, panic giving her the ability to lie she usually lacked. "With my fiancee." She almost cringed at that knowing she had gone too far. 

Ron laughed hard at that. "Fiancee? Don't lie, Brienne. Who would be that blind?"

She was about to turn and run, forget good manners and what people could think of her, when an arm snaked around her waist and a body pressed against her side. She saw in Ron's expression the shock and disbelief just an instant before a man spoke next to her. 

"Are you by any chance insulting _my fiancee_?" The voice was deep and rough, a slight menace in it, and somehow Brienne knew who it belonged to even if it was the first time she heard it. "Or are you insulting _me_?"

Ron's face drained of all colour, Brienne turned and she had been right. Jaime Lannister was so close she could see the specks of gold in his green eyes and at this distance, he was even more devastatingly handsome. He turned his eyes on Brienne, dismissing Ron as if he wasn't important anymore and smirked at her. 

"Jaime," Brienne said, then fell silent, her mind devoid of any other words. 

If he was surprised she knew his name, he didn't show it. He was definitely a better actor than Brienne. The hand on her waist tightened minutely and his eyes sparkled with mischief. 

"Sweetling, ignore the card and just let's go, my brother is waiting for us." He placed a kiss on her cheek and gave her a little push away from the table. "Unless your _friends_ here have something else to say?" It was a dare nobody took him up, and he took Brienne away from the shocked stares of her old bullies.

She expected him to let her go and move away as soon as they were out of sight, but he didn't, instead, he directed her to the bar and sat her at a stool, taking the one next to her and flagging the waiter to order some strong drinks for them.

"Thank you," she said, taking the glass he offered and drinking deeply. 

She was still shaken but now was able to feel that he had not removed his hand for her waist and he was sitting very close and staring at her. "Connington is an asshole, I've had the misfortune of knowing him for some time. He needed putting in his place," he smiled then, wide and mischievous. "I was looking for you. You didn't look like you wanted to be here during the ceremony any more than I did, what you say we get away from this place and have our own party, _sweetling_?"

She barked a startled laugh. "Are you trying to pick me up? You don't even know my name."

"Of course I do, Brienne," he said, his voice low and intimate raising goosebumps. "_We're engaged_."

Brienne considered it for half a second, she really didn't want to be there, much less now after that scene. She had already congratulated Robert and Cersei at the sept, there were hundreds of people and nobody was going to miss her, and this man, this handsome and kind man who had just saved her wanted to spend time with her. 

There was only one response she could give to that.

She downed her drink and stood up. "Lead the way."

...


	16. Meeting in a support group

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Alcoholism

Brienne arrived in the middle of the meeting, head low and shoulders up, and took the first empty seat she saw from the door, as far as possible from the people already inside, as if the distance would prevent her from being one of them. On the dais, a plump man with dark and sad eyes was talking about thirst, about how he had not seen himself as one of them; he had it under control after all, it was just temporary, it was just to cope with a bad hand.

Brienne felt the words like a punch, all of them had passed through her head at some point, waking up with an awful taste in her mouth and no memories of going to sleep. She had not believed she had a problem, would have continued not believing it if her captain had not forced her hand. 

"Clean your act, Tarth, or turn in your badge," Captain Stark had said the day she had found Brienne sitting on a bench in front of the precinct, staring unfocused at the door before her shift and swaying on her feet when she managed to stand. "I've been cutting you some slack because you are one of our best, and because someone who understands what you're going through is looking out for you, but enough is enough."

Captain Stark had been right. 

Brienne couldn't understand how she had got to that point, she'd only had one drink to fortify herself before work, the same she had every morning since the day she lost her partner. It was the thing that got her through the day, that helped her ignore the insults and sneers and murmurs that followed her around. Or maybe she'd had two drinks, she was never drunk at work, it wasn't until later that she really got started. 

She couldn't remember, not for that day. It had been a year to the day, hadn't it? She couldn't really remember that either, or how she got back home from the precinct. She only had a vague impression of piercing green eyes, the same that seemed to follow her around at work trying to catch her doing something wrong, a soothing voice saying, "_This too shall pass, Tarth,_" and a calloused hand tenderly brushing the bangs from her forehead.

She had woken up with her worst hangover to date and tear tracks on her face, and so, so thirsty she had poured a glass of whiskey before she had even started the coffee or turned on the tap. That was what had finally scared her into dumping every single bottle down the drain, drag herself into the shower and look around her flat, cringing at what she saw.

Now she was sitting there a week later, sober for what it felt the first time in a whole year and shaking. She was terrified.

Brienne listened to the people talking, a woman taking walking to the dais to tell about her experience, and then another one, their tales all different but all of them so similar. Brienne didn't get up to share anything herself, hunched in her seat with her arms around her torso wishing she could be somewhere else, anywhere else, and knowing that if she stood up and left, it would take more courage than she possessed now to come back. 

She took her bottle of water from her bag and took huge gulps of it, hoping it would quench the thirst.

"It won't help," a voice said next to her, the same voice from that night's blurry memories. "Not yet, Tarth."

She turned and was less surprised than she should have been to see Jaime Lannister sitting on the chair next to her. She noticed him among the people there, and hadn't seen him approach her or sitting down, too deep inside her own head for spatial awareness. She had been right about the green eyes, they were staring at her now with a much softer expression than she was used to seeing around the precinct. The rest of Jaime Lannister was the same, the dark blond hair shot with silver same as his perfectly trimmed beard, and the bone structure that would make sculptors weep. The sardonic curl of his mouth was missing, though.

"Lannister," Brienne croaked, her voice barely audible. She had not spoken much in the past few days. "What--" She stopped herself before she could voice the full idiotic question. 

He was there for the same reasons she was, she remembered her captain's words _'someone who understands what you're going through'_, it couldn't be anyone but the Kingslayer, the man who had famously killed his captain and got away with it. Not unscathed, the way she had always assumed he had. Not if he was here. 

"I'm glad to see you here," he said, he sounded sincere, miles apart from the caustic man who always had a sharp word or a curt remark for anyone at work, wearing his infamy as a shield. He had not joined the others in their shunning of Brienne, she realized, he had not had a harsh word for her since Renly's death. He was probably the only one. "It's my turn to speak now, but I wanted to say hello in case you saw me up there and fled before I could talk to you." Brienne pressed her lips together and gave a short nod, if she had seen him stand up to talk she would have run away and possibly ended inside some bar. "The first step is hard, but it's not the hardest. The second step will be just as hard, and the next one, and the following ones. It will get easier with time, but it will never be easy. I'm going to tell you what someone told me on my first day here, _you don't have to do it alone_."

He handed her a scrap of paper and Brienne grabbed it instinctively, noticing how warm his hand was where it brushed against hers, how his fingers lingered for a second too long. 

She looked at the paper, his name and phone number scrawled in it. '_Call me at any time_', it said. 

She remembered his voice saying, _This too shall pass, Tarth_, and how he had brushed the hair from her forehead. 

Brienne pocketed the number and stayed to listen to him.

...


	17. Meeting in the ER

Selwyn rushed to the hospital as soon as he got the call, an uneasy feeling in his gut in spite of the nurse's reassurances that Brienne was alright. It wasn't that Selwyn didn't believe them but people who were alright rarely ended in the ER, and Brienne was a very prudent child to engage in antics that would land her in the hospital so when it happened it was a cause for concern. 

She had recently started some martial arts and fencing lessons at his request, Brienne had made no friends in school in the two months since they had moved to King's Landing and Selwyn had hoped she would meet likeminded people there. They would have called him from the gym if it had been an accident there, though, not from the hospital. Add to that her mobile sending all his calls to voice mail and Selwyn was worried.

He arrived at King Robert's hospital and rushed out of the cab and straight into the ER looking for the distinctive blond head. He exhaled in relief when he found it, Brienne was sitting in one of the universally uncomfortable hospitals chairs, clearly not gravely injured, and she wasn't alone. Next to her was a little boy pressing a wad of paper against her bleeding nose and trying to make her tilt her head back to stem the flow. Selwyn hoped it wasn't broken again, Brienne was already too conscious of her looks. 

He saw the darkening bruises on her cheek and jaw then and clenched his jaw as he advanced, fury at the idea of someone beating on his child seething in his veins, only to stop a second later when he was jostled from behind, a young man running past him and bumping Selwyn's shoulder in his haste, blond curls bouncing with each step. 

"Tyrion!" the young man said and the little boy with Brienne looked up as she finally leaned back and closed her eyes, her big hands coming up to hold the napkin, covering most of her face. 

Mismatched eyes in a face much older than he had expected focused on the blonde. There was a matching bruise on the odd face. "Jaime!"

Selwyn reevaluated some things; that was no little boy, not in the way he had thought before. That was Tyrion Lannister, and the running blond had to be his brother, Jaime. Tywin Lannister's children, and somehow Brienne had landed in the hospital with one of them. 

Still angry but now also curious since he could see Brienne was really fine, Selwyn approached at a more leisurely pace not drawing attention to himself and listened to their conversation; he was certain he'd learn more about what happened than if he asked Brienne. 

Jaime kneeled in front of his brother, his eyes scanning him for injuries as he asked question after question. "What happened? How did you end up in the hospital? Who did this? Who's that? Did they hurt you? You know you scared me? What father will do if he finds out?" He sent a suspicious look at where Brienne was, still with her eyes closed, as if she had done something bad to his brother. 

Tyrion rolled his eyes dramatically. "It was Clegane and Loch," he said and his brother's eyes snapped back to him, widening for a second before they narrowed in clear anger. 

"Sandor?"

Tyrion shook his head. "Gregor." That made Jaime grit his teeth, green eyes sparkling with fury. "They thought it would be funny to push me around when I was going home, Brienne saw them and stopped them." Selwyn took note of the names. Later, once they were home, he would investigate who those two were and how to make sure they never laid a finger on his daughter again. Not that Brienne was incapable of defending herself, Selwyn was certain they would be nursing their own bruises, but still. He wasn't as rich and powerful as a Lannister, but he wasn't without resources. "And why do you think I had the nurse call you and not father? I'm not an idiot."

"Of course not," Jaime said, smiling at his brother. He turned to Brienne then, nothing of the distrust he had shown before on his face. "Thank you, Brienne, for defending my brother." Brienne mumbled something unintelligible, not removing her hands from her face. "You must be very strong if you fought Clegane and Loch off, they are assholes because they are strong." It was said wonderingly, a thread of admiration in it.

Brienne finally removed her hands from her face and sat up, taking the napkin away and looking at Jaime. If Selwyn hadn't been looking intently at the young man for any sign that he was going to insult or mock his child, as men as attractive as him usually thought they had the right to, he would have missed it. For an instant, Jaime Lannister looked like he had been struck by lightning, his eyes wide and his mouth parting open on the exhale, two spots of colour climbing high on his cheekbones. He licked his lips, an unconscious gesture, and swallowed. Then Jaime blinked and the starstruck expression was gone.

Selwyn had seen that expression before, it had been on his own face the day he had met Brienne's mother, when he had seen those eyes his daughter had inherited and which rivalled the waters of Tarth in their allure. Lisette had been no beauty, like their daughter, but she had been the most gorgeous woman to Selwyn though it had taken him years to convince her of it.

_Interesting_. 

"I wasn't going to let them hurt Tyrion," Brienne was saying with her usual straightforwardness, not having noticed anything out of the ordinary. Selwyn couldn't see her face but he knew how to read her body language, could see the hunch of her shoulders and the flush creeping down her neck, she was embarrassed.

"Thank you, anyway. Is anyone coming to pick you up?" 

Brienne nodded. "My father." 

The brothers exchanged a look that said they hoped he wasn't like Tywin. "We'll stay with you until he arrives. What do you want to tell him happened? We can back up any story."

That was Selwyn's cue. "That won't be necessary, I've heard all I needed," he said, taking the last steps separating them. All heads turned to him, a subtle tension creeping onto the brother's shoulders, wariness on their faces. Brienne on the other hand just looked mortified. 

"Sorry dad, I knew you were in a meeting," she said as Selwyn breached the distance separating them and pressed his lips against her forehead. 

"I can reschedule and if they have a problem, I'll find a new client," he said, unconcerned. He knew what was important. The brothers exchanged another, charged look. Selwyn turned to them and smiled. "Thank you for staying with my child, and offering to lie for her." Brienne flushed even darker at the endearment like he knew she would. 

A nurse called Brienne's name and she stood up, refusing Selwyn's offer of going inside with her because she was "Seventeen, not seven, dad. Stop embarrassing me."

"She got hurt defending me," Tyrion said as soon as she was out of sight. "You shouldn't punish her for it."

Selwyn had not had the displeasure of meeting Tywin Lannister and he didn't think he wanted to anytime soon, no children should look so scared of their parents as these two, who in spite of verging on adulthood were still children to Selwyn. "Why would I punish my child for standing up for others when I raised her to do that?" Selwyn said as gently as he could. He took the seat Brienne had vacated. "I'm glad she did, and that she's made some friends."

The brothers shared another look but didn't contradict him, taking a seat next to him to wait for Brienne. 

...


	18. Cop/Person getting a ticket

Being a cop in King's Landing was nothing like Brienne had envisioned while growing up in Tarth. 

King's Landing was supposed to be a metropolis, multicultural and exciting and a lot more progressive than a little backwater island where everyone knew everyone else and Brienne couldn't take two steps without it being reported to her father, Tarth's Chief of Police. She had imagined that once she was away from his sphere of influence and the island's people's preconceptions of what a woman should and shouldn't be, she would be able to rise through the ranks with her abilities and hard work. And yes, King's Landing was a metropolis; women wore shorter skirts and less cloth on their bodies, or lots and lots more of cloth and only black. They had colourful hair or shaved heads, and tattoos and piercings, and they dated when they wanted and who they wanted, or not dated anyone. They could wear no make-up or tons of it, they could wear heels or flats or walk barefoot for all people cared. 

There were just two things women were not allowed to comfortably be, ugly and a cop in KLPD. At least not under Captain Tarly, who made the people of Tarth feel modern and seemed to have a special hatred for Brienne for daring to be good at her job but not pleasant to look at.

That was the reason she was on the night shift for the third week in a row, relegated to traffic duties while there was a spate of crime that required all hands on deck. 

"That's why you're on traffic, Tarth," Tarly had told her when she protested that they needed everyone in the investigation. "So we can have all the _real cops_ working."

Just remembering his words made Brienne's blood boil, though there was nothing she could do unless she put in for a transfer or quit, and she wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. Not to Tarly and definitely not to Lannister.

As if summoned by Brienne thoughts, she heard the speeding car that announced the arrival of her nemesis. Regular like clockwork, a red convertible took the corner at least ten miles over the speed limit, ignoring traffic laws and Brienne's presence equally, and rushed past her car. She sighed and turned on her sirens, lights only in deference of the late hour, and gave chase. It had stopped on the next street like Brienne knew he was going to, and the driver was already leaning on the window with that infuriating smirk she wanted to wipe.

Jaime Lannister, son of the mayor and brother of the DA, whose early retirement from the KLPD to start his own security firm had been surrounded by scandal and covered in his father's fingerprints. The first time Brienne had stopped him he had been doing just two miles over the limit, something that normally wouldn't warrant a ticket, especially at night on empty streets. Brienne had always been a stickler for the rules, though, and it had been the day she had realized that no matter what she did, she was not going to make detective in that precinct. She was never going to be more than a glorified traffic warden. 

Brienne had intended to let the driver go with a warning, but when she had approached the car a man who could be the Warrior himself, golden and beautiful, had turned to her with a fearsome scowl. "You've got to be kidding me, I was barely two miles over..." he had been saying when he got a good look at Brienne, the scowl melting from his face as he trailed off, his eyes roving all over her before they narrowed sharply. She had flushed at the way he was looking at her, feeling tongue-tied as it always happened when she was around beautiful people. Then he had opened his mouth again. "_Are you a woman_?"

That was the first time Brienne gave Jaime Lannister a ticket. 

It had not been the last. 

Every single night Brienne had been on duty in that intersection he had turned up, always speeding in his very expensive car, always taunting Brienne with a smile on his face. 

"Do you ever smile, Officer? Are you as boring as you are tall?" he had asked the third night as Brienne handed him a ticket, frowning down at him. Why was he there again? He must have known she was going to be in the same intersection she had stopped him the previous two days.

"So what's your name, Officer Tarth?" he had asked on the fifth day with a quirk of his mouth. 

Brienne had ignored the way her heart had skipped a beat at his smile. "It's Officer," she had said, because she had learned her lesson a long time ago that no attractive man smiled at her like that without ulterior motives. 

"No, you don't look like an Officer, you look like a Wench," he had said while Brienne narrowed her eyes at him and practically threw the ticket through his window.

She'd half expected to be called into the Captain's office after that, but nothing had happened, except that Lannister kept speeding past her and taking his tickets with a smirk and a taunt. Brienne had learned to anticipate his arrival, the butterflies in her gut had nothing to do with his smile and everything with whatever insult he would deploy that day.

His favourite was Wench, his voice fond when he said it.

"Officer Wench, long time no see," he said, his tone friendly as if he was genuinely pleased to see her. Brienne knew better, he was just pleased to annoy her. "I've missed you these past days."

"Mr. Lannister," she said, keeping her tone as neutral as possible while she wanted to wring his perfect neck. "It's Officer Tarth, as you well know. Licence?" He extended it to her with a smile. "You know why I stopped you?"

His smile widened, eyes shining with mischief. "Because you couldn't resist the temptation to spend a few minutes with me?"

"You were speeding again, in the same stretch of road where you've been stopped for speeding at least ten times," she said, holding onto the frayed remains of her self control. Tonight was not the night for Lannister's taunts. "Don't you have anything better to do with your time, Mr. Lannister, than wasting mine?"

"It's Jaime," he said as he leaned back, taking the notebook with the ticket and signing his recept, doodling something on the side like he usually did. Brienne expected it would be a dick if she ever looked at it, not that she ever had. He appeared to be the type to have a twelve-year-old sense of humour. "And not really, no." He handed it back and Brienne put it in his pocked pointedly not looking at it. "Neither do you, _officer_, since you are always here waiting for me instead of chasing real criminals."

And that was it, Brienne could practically hear her self-control snapping at that. "Out of the car," she said, her voice almost a growl. Lannister's eyebrow's climbed up his forehead but he did it when Brienne took a step back and opened his door. He climbed out of the car and unfolded next to her. He was almost as tall as Brienne, though he still had to look up to her, and just as wide and fit though his clothes were better tailored to showcase his powerful body. Taking complete leave of her senses, Brienne put her hands on his arms and stepped into his personal space, pressing him back against the car. Lannister's breath left his lungs in a rush, his face flushing in anger, eyes dark and mouth half-opened. He licked his lips. "You think this is a joke? That I have been put here for your amusement? That I'm not a real cop just because I am too tall and too big and too ugly?" She hissed on his face, hands hard on his biceps. She could feel the muscle under the expensive weave of his suit jacket, and the still rational part of her brain catalogued it. He was strong enough that he could push her away, and yet he stood there just staring at her with wide eyes, glaze flickering between her eyes and her mouth. "You and Tarly are not going to make me quit. He can keep me in traffic forever, can keep hiding me in the night shift so my face doesn't offend him while the _real cops_ are out there investigating. I've dealt with sexist pigs stuck in the Targaryen era before." She couldn't believe those words were coming out of her mouth but couldn't stop herself. "You can keep insulting me, it's nothing I haven't heard before, you can even keep pretending to be nice to me so I humiliate myself thinking you like me. Again, you wouldn't be the first, though I don't know what's in it for you." She took a deep breath, her anger draining out of her when she realized how close to him she was, their bodies almost pressed together, his breath on her face. He wasn't flushing anymore, his face appeared pale now, his eyes sharp and narrow. She took one step back, then another. "I guess I won't have to quit, after all."

He didn't say anything for a moment that felt like a lifetime, then Lannister got back inside his car and drove away.

…

"Tarth, the Captain is waiting for you in his office."

Those were the words Brienne had been expecting to hear for the past few days, the only surprising thing that Tarly had waited an entire week and put her on the day shift to do it. For maximum humiliation, she was sure. She had known it was coming when Lannister had stopped bothering her the day after she had snapped, not that she had missed him, and Tarly had been strangely absent as well. She had heard some snatches of conversation, had heard her name in whispers and felt some more glares than usual. She had made her peace with it, at least she had not quit. 

"Captain Tarly," she started entering the office with her head held high. Then she stopped and looked at the man inside the room. He was definitely not Randyll Tarly.

Sitting comfortably in the Captain's chair was a man in his late thirties or early forties, tall and solidly built, with an attractive face, sharp blue eyes, and a full head of ginger hair to match his ginger beard. 

"Office Tarth, I'm Captain Addam Marbrand, I'm replacing Captain Tarly who has come down with a case of '_being a sexist pig_' and '_being stuck in the Targaryen era_'," he said with a straight face, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I hope I'm a better Captain than he was, not that it's going to be too difficult."

Brienne choked on air and dropped on one of the chairs. "What?"

Marbrand took some folders from the desk drawers. "It had somehow escaped the attention of everyone that this precinct was staffed with just men, like this was the old Kingsguard instead of a modern police department, and whenever a woman dared appear she ended quitting or requesting a transfer in under six months. We have spoken with a couple of them, and there is an interesting pattern everyone in HR had missed." It hadn't been just Brienne, then. "There were other irregularities, especially in a certain type of investigations, that once had come to the DA's attention couldn't be overlooked. Captain Tarly has been kindly invited to retire early and his cohorts are being reassigned." The DA, Tyrion Lannister. Brienne was now more confused than before. This couldn't be because of what she had said, or shouted, at Jaime. She was supposed to be the one fired, not Tarly. Marbrand was still talking as if Brienne's world hadn't been upended in the last minute. "I have taken the liberty of examining your file, and you have been wasted since you came to this precinct, your scores in the Academy are exemplary and you have a recommendation from Tarth Chief of Police."

"He's my father," she said, faintly, surreptitiously pinching her arm. She was awake.

Marbrand smiled slightly. "So he is, still a good recommendation. I'm pulling you from traffic, you will be assigned a partner and will join the Mummers investigation effect immediately. Officer Snow will get you up to speed with the case."

Brienne nodded, knowing a dismissal when she heard one. "Thank you, Captain." 

She still had no idea what had happened but she had been given everything she wanted, she wasn't going to complain. 

"Oh, and Brienne," Marbrand said before she could open the door. "Can I call you Brienne? Regardless of what the rumours say, I haven't been given this position because of my connections, and I won't treat you differently if you choose not to go out with Jaime."

"What are you walking about, Captain Marbrand?" Brienne asked, now certain she had fallen through the rabbit hole. 

"Jaime Lannister, blonde, pretty, rich? The guy who won't shut up about you for the past couple of weeks? You've given him a ticket or a dozen? Has been waiting for your call for weeks and missing sleep to see you?" Her shock must have been plain to see because Marbrand sighed, long and heartfelt. "I have told my idiot of a friend that insulting and annoying a person is not the way to flirt with them. You have to excuse him but being so pretty means he's never had to woo a woman, he's completely useless at it." Brienne blinked at Marbrand, mouth opening and closing uselessly. "Please check your ticket notebook and decide whether he's too much of an idiot to go out with, but please put him out of his misery before I have him murdered."

Brienne walked out of the Captain's office and went to her desk, still feeling like she had landed in a parallel universe. She grabbed her notebook and flipped the pages. Some part of her was convinced she was going to find drawings of dicks or more insults, and that her new Captain was going to be not so different from the old one. 

'_Call me, Wench_' was written on the margins of the latest tickets, and next to it was a phone number.

Her heart lurched in her chest, the same butterflies that usually appeared at the same time as his car fluttering in her stomach. She took out her phone and dialled before she could think better of it, half expecting the number to be fake. 

"Wench?"

"Jaime."

...


	19. Metting in a train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have definitely given up on keeping the prompts under 2K

Brienne rushed through the station, one hand clutching the crumpled letter of reference in her hand the other tight around the handle of her suitcase, as the whistle announcing the departure of the train echoed inside the crowded platform. She dodged people moving away from the train, entire families who had come to say goodbye to a loved one and were now in her way as she ran for the train. 

All the good references in the world would be of no help if she missed the train. 

She made it by the skin of her teeth, climbing on board just as a cloud of vapour was released and the machine started chugging along. She took a deep breath, calming her galloping heart, and rested against the wall of the carriage as they departed, leaving King's Landing behind.

She wasn't sad to leave the city, King's Landing had proven to be too big and too noisy and too crowded for Brienne, but she would miss the people. She had enjoyed her time as a governess for Lord and Lady Stark's children, would have stayed with them longer but they were going back to Winterfell, where Brienne wasn't really needed anymore. Still, they had asked her to go with them. Winterfell was too far and too cold, though, and Lord Stark had mentioned some bachelors of his acquaintance he wanted to introduce to Brienne. 

She already knew how that always turned out and would rather spare him the disappointment and herself the humiliation.

"I understand, the north is not for everyone," Cat had said with that soft smile that always made Brienne miss her mother, Sansa hugging her tight enough that Brienne felt her throat closing. She had been lucky to end up with the Starks when she moved to the capital, the spinster daughter of a minor lord who had been driven from her own home by a distant relative as she was grieving her father, friendless and almost penniless, and too ugly to marry. "Don't be a stranger, you'll always be welcome with us."

Cat had been the one who found her a new position and wrote the letter of recommendation. "Lord Lannister served with Ned in the army, he's just resigned his commission to take over the Lannister estate. He's adopted his sister's children after she passed away last month, he's going to need all the help he can get." There wasn't a Lady Lannister to share the responsibilities him, which was why he had eagerly hired Brienne just on Cat's recommendation and requested that she came as soon as possible. "He can be difficult, the Seven knows Ned used to hate him when they were both just privates. He changed, though he's still arrogant as only a Lannister can be." Brienne must have looked doubtful at that. "Don't worry, I know you will be good for them."

"I hope you're right."

"I am," Cat had reassured her. She had also insisted that Brienne took a cabin on the train to Lannisport, not a just a seat. "It's a two-day journey, Brienne, we can afford for you to be comfortable." 

She was now grateful for it, as all the seats were already taken and they looked hard and small. 

Brienne moved down the carriages until she found the one marked in her ticket, and couldn't help the flush of pleasure and embarrassment to see Cat had paid for a first-class cabin for her. 

She could sleep comfortably tonight, no need to worry about fitting her big frame on a normal-sized one. 

The cabin wasn't empty when she opened the door, though. Sitting on the bench were two small children, their golden heads bent together and giggling with the mischief only small children could. They looked up when Brienne entered, their laughter stopping abruptly. A boy and girl, he couldn't be older than six and she was younger, both dressed in what looked like very fine clothes, obviously siblings, with huge green eyes and golden curls and the prettiest faces Brienne had seen. She double-checked that she was in the right place, and looked at the long corridor. All the doors were closed, and there was nobody around. 

"Hello," Brienne said, entering the cabin and letting her suitcase on the floor. They didn't appear to be in distress, so they probably weren't lost, though they were too young to be on their own.

"Hello," the girl said, smiling at her brightly. The boy didn't say anything, just stared at Brienne with narrowed eyes.

Brienne crouched down, she knew she was tall and it was intimidating for children so young. "I'm Brienne, what are your names?"

"I'm Myri, he's Joff," the girl said still with the same smile. 

"Shh, don't," the boy, Joff, said. He grabbed the girl's hand and pulled her closer to him. Brienne smiled at the protective gesture with a sting of the old hurt thinking about her own brother. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said, keeping her tone calm and reassuring. "This is my cabin, are you in a cabin like this with your parents?"

Joff shook his head, still with the same mistrustful expression on his face. His sister was much more open. "Our uncle."

"Does he know you're here?" Another shake of Joff's head. "He must be worried about you if he doesn't know where you are."

"He's asleep," Miry said with a giggle. "_We're hiding_." Brienne had to bite her lips to keep herself from smiling at the pure delight in her voice, there would be a very worried uncle if he woke up without the children around.

"He's always with Tommen or sleeping," Joff said, judgement clear in his high pitched voice. "He's not fun anymore."

Before Brienne could ask who was Tommen and which cabin they were in, a voice called loudly from outside. "Joffrey! Myrcella! Where are you?" The children looked at each other and giggled together. "This is not funny! Joffrey! Myrcella!" 

There was a thread of panic in the voice that had Brienne unfolding from her crouch to open the door. In the corridor and advancing in Brienne's direction was a man who was obviously related to the children. He was stunningly attractive, with the same golden curls and green eyes, though his were dulled with pain and exhaustion, dark bags under them, and sharp features that looked almost gaunt. He had a baby in his arms, Tommen Brienne imagined, probably the reason he looked like he needed two solid days of uninterrupted sleep and a few warm meals. 

"They're here," she said, and his eyes sharpened on her. He crossed the space separating them in fast strides, his bearing martial and focused. He looked her over as he stalked in her direction, not liking what he saw if the furrow in his brow and the thin line of his mouth were any indication. Brienne was undaunted. "This is my cabin, they said they were playing hide and seek?"

He sagged at that, all the menace in his posture replaced by weariness, clearly aware that the children had been playing a trick on him. The baby chose that moment to start fussing, taking his attention from Brienne for a second and the man swallowed loudly, taking a pacifier from somewhere in his person and giving it to the child. Now that he knew there was no danger he appeared even more tired. "I'm sorry they have inconvenienced you," he said and followed her into the cabin. He stood there, hesitating, looking between the children on the seat and the babe in his arms. He looked like he wanted to hug them to his chest and at the same time throttle them for scaring him. He settled for a big sigh. "Come on, we need to go back to our own cabin and let the lady her own."

The children pouted. "You're just going to sleep again," Joff said as if that was the worst sin, the man clenched his jaw in obvious frustration. "_I want to play_."

"Joff, when we get home--" he began, and Joff pressed his lips together, gearing up for a tantrum.

Brienne wouldn't know what it was that made her speak, but she could see he had been scared for the children and that he was overwhelmed with all three of them, and that if Joff started crying the other ones wouldn't be too far behind. "It's no inconvenience, they can stay with me and play for a while." He opened his mouth, his reticence as obvious as his need for some sleep. "I'm used to children. I'm a governess, I have books and games and they will keep me from getting bored myself. We're not going anywhere, this is a long trip, Mister…?"

"Jaime, my name is Jaime," he said, exhaustion clearly having won the battle. 

"My name is Brienne Tarth." She offered her hand and he took it with a puzzled expression on his face. His hand was warm and calloused, and he held onto Brienne's for longer than what considered appropriate, his thumb moving absently over skin. Brienne flushed deep red and would have snatched her hand if it didn't look like he wasn't aware of his actions.

"Why does the same sound familiar?" he mumbled, taking his hand away and rubbing tiredly at his face. "They can stay for a while?"

"Yes, and you can go back to your cabin or take that cot over there if it would make it easier to be in the same room," Brienne pointed at the empty cot on the other side of the cabin. He looked like he was about to protest some more, though his eyes were almost closing of their own accord, "but you should lie down before you fall."

"It would be inappropriate, Miss Brienne," he protested, blinking rapidly at her to keep his eyes opened. She almost laughed, nobody would think anything untoward had happened between a man that attractive and Brienne the Beauty, even if there weren't three children with them. 

He didn't look like he was joking, though, or like he thought is a ridiculous prospect.

"Your children are with us," Brienne reassured him and he nodded slowly, she turned at an insistent tug on her sleeve to see Myrcella looking at her with wide and eager eyes. "Yes, Myrcella?"

She was rewarded with a toothy grin. "You'll read to me?"

"If your uncle agrees." Jaime had lost the fight with his own exhaustion and was now curled on the cot, Tommen pressed against his chest and arms surrounding the babe protectively. His brow was still furrowed, though his eyes were now closed and his breathing was evening out. "Sit there and let me get a book," she said to the children, lowering her voice. 

"_I want to play_," Joffrey said, the pout still firmly on his face. She had the feeling he had been very spoiled up till now and was not used to being ignored.

"We'll play after we read the book," Brienne said, not giving him an option and Joffrey nodded, satisfied with that promise. 

She grabbed her favourite one from her suitcase and sat between Joffrey and Myrcella to read, her voice lilting in the beloved phrases and images, eyes lifting to look at the sleeping man in her cot from time to time. Like this, with him sleeping in her cot and the babe in his arms, the children sitting by her side hanging to her every word, they would look to anyone as a family and Brienne felt the usual burn of pure longing for a family of her own. 

One just like this.

Maybe that was what had prompted to offer her help to them, maybe it had been the children's smiles and innocence, or the look on Jaime's face when he had seen them, unharmed, the sheer relief in his eyes. Brienne didn't know, and didn't know why the children had trusted her on sight and why she felt so comfortable with them, and with their uncle, but she knew grief and loss, and this family seemed to have gone through their share of it.

The same as the Starks had helped her when she had most needed it, she could help this family until they got to Lannisport.

And if she was very lucky, she would be able to help the Lannisters just as much. 

...


	20. Unplanned pregnancy II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted me for a follow up of unplanned pregnancy from chapter 13 (Thanks Ulmo8o for catching that one!).

"I'm going to be a father."

Jaime had the pleasure of seeing his brother choking on a mouthful of wine, spraying it all over himself and the table, red droplets staining the white cloth even as a waiter came to try to clean the disaster. Tyrion shot him a betrayed look, still gasping for air, and daintily cleaned his mouth with his napkin and apologized to the waiter before refilling his glass.

Jaime grinned, that had been the reaction he had hoped for. Had owed it to his brother since the time he sent Shae to him for pregnant care as his way of giving Jaime the same news. 

Payback was a bitch.

"I didn't even know you were seeing someone," Tyrion said once he regained the breath to speak, still looking disgruntled. It was a good look on him.

"I wasn't, now I am," Jaime said, unhelpfully. He was enjoying this.

Tyrion narrowed his eyes at him. "Since when?"

"Going on two weeks now." 

And what two weeks they had been, Jaime had been walking on a cloud the entire time, a smile carved on his face since the moment Brienne had confirmed what her paperwork said and that she wanted to see him again, to try a relationship with him. 

Jaime had given up on ever finding her again, holiday flings were never meant to come up again and her leaving while he slept was possibly a kindness. He fell too deep and too fast but had never had that kind of immediate chemistry with any of the women he bedded, and very rarely had wanted a repeat performance. He had thought about her frequently since the end of his vacation, she had already left the Summer Island but Jaime had just arrived and the rest of the week he had spent there had paled in comparison with that day. 

He had come back to work, and when he'd had his monthly dinner with his brother, Tyrion had taken a look at him and told him he didn't know how to take a vacation. "You look more miserable than when you left, I didn't think that would be possible." Tyrion got the whole sorry tale of it with the help of lots of wine. "Only you, Jaime, would travel thousands of miles and fall for a one night stand on the other side of the world. Only you."

"And she's already pregnant?" Tyrion exclaimed now, brows climbing up his forehead. 

Jaime took a drink of his own glass of wine, his smile widening. "She's about five months along, four months and twenty-three days to be precise."

Four months and eight days of Jaime thinking about her, about where she could be and how much of an idiot he had been for not asking for her phone number or even her surname. 

Two weeks of daily dates, spending all the time they could with each other, learning all the things they had not shared during their day together. 

Jaime had learned she was named after the island with the waters as blue as her eyes, that Brienne was the curator of a medieval history museum and taught fencing in her spare time. She had told him, during their third date, that she had no living family but her friends filled that space. 

"He would spoil the baby so much," she had said, eyes wet with tears and voice rough with old grief, and Jaime had held her tight and promised to do it in his stead.

Jaime had also learned that she was ticklish all the way down her right side but not the left, that she would scream and trash and come a second time if he kept pressing his tongue to her clit and his fingers inside of her as she came down from her orgasm, that her breasts were delightfully sensitive now, and that she loved being on top of him, holding his wrists and moving slowly until Jaime begged for mercy. 

Had also learned her hair was untamable in the mornings, and that Brienne had a light snoring snuffle when she fell asleep in the couch after a movie and would startle awake because of it. She had cold feet she pushed ruthlessly against Jaime's legs at night, and was very grumpy in the mornings since she couldn't drink coffee. That her kisses tasted like ginger tea first thing in the morning and like home the rest of the time.

And that had only been two weeks, he couldn't wait to learn more things about her.

"You found her," Tyrion said, snapping him back to the present. 

Nobody had ever accused his brother of being slow on the uptake. 

"She found me," he admitted, telling his brother about how she had come to him referred by her doctor, how his heart had hammered against his chest reading the file and seeing the name Brienne. He had thought it would be just a coincidence, the name had become quite popular thanks to the Long Night books and show, and when he'd looked up and seen her there, just as tall and striking as he remembered, her belly not quite as flat as the day he had his tongue and fingers trace every inch of it. 

"And you're sure it's yours? Didn't you use protection? You're sure she's not after your money?" Tyrion asked, the way Jaime knew he was going to. He might not care about the money or the family name, but his brother had always been wary of people associating with them because of it. With reason.

"We did use protection, but--" he trailed off, embarrassed. They had bought one of those vending machine condom packets on their way to Jaime's rooms but they had not been enough. When they had used them all and Jaime was raring to go again, he had remembered the old one in his wallet. He should have checked properly, it had been there for a long time, but he had been too tired, too horny, and a bit drunk on both wine and her skin. He had not been especially surprised when he had found it broken as he was cleaning the detritus around the bed the next morning but without a way to contact her there hadn't been anything he could do.

Tyrion's face did something complicated and then he started laughing so hard the people from the closest table glared at them. "Only you, Jaime." He shook his head, fondly exasperated, and took his glass again. "I've wanted to meet this woman since you came back from your holiday lovelorn and pining for a woman whose surname you didn't know."

Jaime thought of Brienne had she had been the day before, with her blue sundress and the flowers in her hair, looking radiant as she leaned to whisper in his ear. "Are you sure about this?" 

Jaime had rarely been surer of anything in his life and he had just kissed her as a reply. "I already know how I feel about you, that's not going to change if we wait for a year."

She had smiled and kissed him while the judge looked at them with an impatient tilt of his mouth. "Let's do it."

"Lannister," he said now, laughing when his brother sprayed the wine over the table again and hoping Brienne was getting the same kind of reactions from her friends. "_Her surname is Lannister._"

…


	21. Gold condoms - humour, modern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the JB Transformative Werk discord

Brienne didn't have a lot or the best experiences with sex, she was the first person to admit it, but she was aware that there was some unspoken rule about laughing at your partner when they were naked and vulnerable, even when the partner in question looked like a god or something out of a very detailed fantasy.

She pressed her lips together, trying to contain the shaking and calm her breathing, her eyes moving from the gold rubber monstrosity in his hand, to the glitter, gold as well, that had fallen on the bed when he ripped the square foil open, to Jaime's wide green eyes and flushed cheeks and his lips, kiss swollen and now thoroughly abused by his own teeth instead of Brienne's.

She wasn't going to laugh. She wasn't going to, Jaime was the best thing that had happened to Brienne since, well, since forever. They were friends, and they were so much more, and she didn't want to fuck things up. 

_She wasn't going to laugh. _

Jaime threw the gold condom away from he bed with a disgusted noise and lunged to his bedside table, grabbing a handful from one of the drawers while he muttered under his breath, his brother's name coming up with some imprecation. He let a handful of condoms drop on the bed like overgrown confetti, grabbing one and ripping it open with too much force. 

Brienne bit her lips savagely. 

The next condom was gold and glittery as well, and he pitched it out of the bed. 

And the next one.

And the next one.

The muttering kept gaining volume. "Fucking Tyrion, fucking Lannisters, fucking glittery gold condoms…"

That was when Brienne lost it, as his frustration mounted, the gold debris scattered around them and his own face fighting against the laughter that was obviously bubbling inside of him, she just couldn't help herself, the last of the liquid courage that had made her kiss him during their weekly dinners at his flat, that had carried them from his couth to his bedroom, hands ripping at clothes and eager mouths separating only for air.

"No fucking without a condom, Lannister," she said, and his eyes snapped up to her face, outraged as she started finally laughing, hard enough she overbalanced and fell off the bed in an unsightly sprawl, the impact against his plush carpet knocking the wind out of her, but not enough that she stopped laughing. 

She had an instant of apprehension to wonder whether she had managed to completely crush the mood, and the next moment Jaime was joining her on the floor, covering her body with his and kissing the mirth and the breath from her mouth. 

"That's it, next time you're in charge of logistics," he said, and kept kissing her between chuckles.


End file.
